


Fallout New Vegas: Old Man Courier

by SirSpoder



Series: Fallout New Vegas: Old Man Courier [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 91,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8237287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSpoder/pseuds/SirSpoder
Summary: What happens when a man gets shot in the head twice and miraculously woke up days later? A series of unfortunate events happen that's what. The Mojave Wasteland spares nobody.





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fallout belongs to Bethesda/ Obsidian.  
> I also posted this on fanfiction.net and Deviantart under the same profile

Everything was blurry, nothing seemed clear. There was a buzzing sound. The cowboy ranger woke up to the sight of a spinning fan. And soft old voice:

“You’re awake, how about that.”

The ranger tried to get up, there was an aching in his spine. Something seemed to be out of order. His spine was hurting all over. And his lungs were barely breathing in and out. Felt like he'd been swallowing a bulk of lead. And maybe he did.

“Whoa, easy there,” said the old man, “You’ve been out for a while, ten days to be exact.”

The ranger saw the man, he was bald, well, almost anyway. Wore a dark shirt, black gloves. Had a bushy moustache. He seemed familiar. He didn’t really know why.

“Wh... what happened?” asked the ranger.

“Th...” the old man tried to find the right words, “There’ve been some... unfortunate events. You’re lucky to be still walkin’ ‘round like this... err... how ‘bout yer name.”

“What?”

“Name,” he repeated, “what do folks call you?”

The ranger blinked for a moment before he answered:

“Solmund, just call me Sol for short.”

“Right-o.” He replied, “I’m Doc Mitchell, and this is Goodsprings. Named after the water springs around these parts. Fortunate for us folks too, ain’t nothin’ like a good water source to go around a desert like this. Them folks back at the Hub must be jealous.”

Sol didn’t pay attention to anything he said. He was too busy looking around the house. It was a simple house, wooden planks on the floor, and a desk for what he assumed was for Doc’s work. There was also a chemistry set, too. And across the room was a Vit-o-matic Vigor Tester machine. Sol didn’t have that from where he came from. There weren’t a lot of technology back in Baja, just a bunch of duster wearing rangers sitting around a campfire, drinking moonshines and singing Old songs.

“Alright then,” said Doc finally, “no senses in keeping you in bed now, let’s get you up.”

He grabbed his arms and Sol followed him up. His feet was wobbly at first, it all felt like noodle limbs. He felt like falling over, but he was tough, he wasn’t about to give up. When he finally got up, he suddenly felt like whole again. His limbs were tougher than stone. Just like how he remembered it.

“Good, good,” said Doc Mitchell, “You’re doing better than I expected, how ‘bout try to walk over that Tester machine over there, take it easy now, it ain’t no race. We folks ‘round here don’t like races anyway.”

To both Doc’s and Sol’s surprise. His legs were quicker than a bull, walked all the way to the Tester in a matter of seconds. Doc was almost speechless.

“Wow, normal folks don’t get up like you do... well I s’pose you ain't no normal folk... go ahead.”

“What is it?” Solmund asked, “Some kind of... tester right?”

“Yup,” answered Doc, “Not much to it, just go ahead and try to push the lever, the machine will do the magic for yer.”

Solmund fiddled around the lever at first but when he gripped at the lever, it felt light, and it instantly pushed itself back towards the machine. The Tester lit up brightly the score. And Doc Mitchell’s jaw dropped to the floor.

“Would you look at that,” said Doc while looking at the intelligence meter, “maybe them bullets done you some good after all. You could go right ahead and be a teacher with them Follower folks.” Doc had no idea how true that was.

“Well, the rest of your statistics seems to be good, too, you really are not one of them normal folks, ain’t you?” He said. Sol didn’t answer though, he was busy thinking. 

“Alright then,” mumbled Doc Mitchell, “Why don’t you come over to the couch over here. I’ve got a few questions, just to see if your brain function is working, and that nothing important... shifted.”

Solmund sat down, Doc grabbed a couple of documents and handed them to Sol.

“Right, just fill these out, nothing much, just yer name, Birthday, etc.” He gave him a pencil.

After a couple of minutes, Sol handed the paper back to him. And the very first reaction from Doc’s face was surprise:

“I think you’ve got some mistake here, your birthday, says right here you’re born in June 20th, 2221. Now I...”

“It’s not wrong,” Sol cut him off. Doc was still surprised, quite speechless.

“Really?”

“Yup, as sure as the day is sunny in Nevada,” he replied.

“But you...” Doc stuttered, “I mean, c’mon, you look like an older fella but you don’t look that old.”

“Unfortunately, I am.” Solmund said, staring at him unsteadily, “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, no,” he quickly added, “it’s just that I don’t see much folks around here going anywhere pass fifty. Radiation is nasty ya know.”

“Not in Vegas though,” Sol said, “One of the few things that don’t stay in Vegas.”

Doc Mitchell laughed. The mood got a bit lighter, Sol smiled internally. He’d always liked seeing normal folks smile, it felt... natural. It was one of those rare times when people don’t concern themselves with today's politics mumbo jumbo, just letting go and enjoy life as it was. He wished he could be this happy all the time.

“Alright, jokes aside,” said Doc, “I’ve got one more thing to ask yer.”

“Ask away.”

“Right...” He leaned forward towards Solmund, he sat there uneasily. A bit tense, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

This question struck him a chord. He had lived a very long life. Solmund grew up in a ranch in Baja. The place was a place filled with Desert Rangers. It was also a good place to trade, too. Crimson Caravan folks loved trading there for Brahmin hide. Most of it was Sol’s father’s work. He owned most of the ranch there. Sol’s father was name was James Solomon. He was like the father of the farmers and Brahmin herders there. People looked up to him. He was chief around those parts. Always knew how to make good deals with the Caravan. Heck, thanks to him, Sol’s ranch was one of the most prosperous places in Baja.

It was practically a self-regulating town. Caravan folks came in expect the Brahmin hide to be at top prices, but they didn’t mind none. Because it was of the best quality around the West.   
  
Solmund also remembered his mother, her name was Daisy Elmer. She was a good person. She loved James very much. But Sol didn’t know much more about her, though, since she left when he was young. That was another thing that he remembered, the Desert Rangers. Those were the toughest, roughest sons of guns in the wasteland. They say that they chew nails and spit napalms. Sol saw a ranger did exactly just that. He was terrified of it.

But besides that stuff and a bit more from his childhood, nothing seemed to come through, especially recent events, a few years ago. That was where he lost his memory.

“Really?” Doc Mitchell said after listening, “hmm... son, it seems that you got a special condition, them folks call it selective memory loss.”

“Really? Does it damage the cerebral cortex or something?” Sol asked, Doc was surprised at his knowledge.

“Well... I’m not sure myself,” Doc assured, “But whatever it may be, I’m sure that your memories will come back eventually, proper rehab will do some good.”

 

 

 

 

“Here,” Doc handed back Sol’s clothes, “I kept them cleaned for yer while you were out cold. I apologize though, one of your stuff fell out while I was hanging it out back. It was a courier’s orders or something. I didn’t read through though.”

“It’s alright Doc, I won’t be needing the order anyway,” said Sol as he grabbed his belongings, “Thank you so much for everything.”

He didn’t have much on him when he came here. Nothing but a black cowboy hat, a pair of shades, his clothes and of course, his ranger duster and his Ranger Sequoia. He remembered these, got these a while back. Another thing Sol recalled. Maybe getting his memories back won’t be so difficult.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Doc Mitchell said, “are you a ranger?”

Solmund was about to give a simple answer. But that got him thinking. Was he really with the Desert Rangers? He thought he found a sense of camaraderie while he was with the Rangers. There were a lot of ghouls, so many knew what it was like to be a cranky old man with problems in their knees. They had a mutual respect for one another. But now they’re with the NCR, the New California Republic. A faction that...

Sol answered:

“No... I’m not a ranger, I used to be, when I was a wee lad, I joined the army, served a few years, they said that they moved me up ranks, making me just one step below full ranger in just under a few years of training... never really went out any official ranger mission, though. Although I kept the Sequoia and the duster they gave me. It reminded me of Baja...”

Doc smiled, “well, that’s great... I mean, I’ve never seen a ranger up close before.”

“Yeah... thanks again Doc.”

“Sure thing, be sure to check on Trudy, she’s going to help you out. Oh, and the robot cowboy, he knows what happened.”


	2. Still Kinda Hurts

“How did you do that?” Sunny Smiles asked, surprised.

“Do what?” Solmund questioned her, nearly confused.

“I’ve never seen anyone shoot that fast… and that accurate,” said the girl before him, “You shoot a bolt action rifle as if it was lever action.”

“Well, I try to do my best.”

Folks around here were still trying to get use to the fact that a 60 year old man was walking around like he was some sort of super soldier. Guess they never really saw much action around these parts. Except for a couple of gecko and coyote attacks. Sunny Smiles was the girl in charge of most police forces around town. She was a small lean girl, but she packed one heck of a punch with her rifle. Scared the living hell out of any geckos in a 50 foot radius. There were still a few people going around the water springs without any weapons on them. Sunny mostly had to clean up the mess. Found another one wandering around the springs this morning, no weapons, no guns again, said Sunny. At least Sol got some gecko hide to sell now.

“Nice work,” she said, “Here are some caps, I got about 100 caps selling our last skin stock anyways, so figured we should split it.”

“Thanks.”

“Be sure to spend some on the bar, come by sometimes, and I’ll buy you a drink. You’re doing better than I expected Sol, especially for an old… err… I mean a man who’s just got shot 10 days prior.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. When you live long enough it sorta becomes an inconvenience more than anything else,” He told her, “I’ve seen plenty of ghouls older than my grandpa, and they’re still kicking.”

“You’re no ghoul.”

“Does it matter?” He asked, “With the scorching wasteland you’re ought to become one sooner or later.”

“Alright, I should be heading back now,” Said Sunny, “Trudy’s probably waiting, it’s going to get dark. You coming?”

“Yeah.” 

 

 

 

 

“And there he was,” said Trudy, “standing there shouting like a maniac he is. Said he’s going to burn down the town if we don’t hand over Ringo. But I wasn't going to stand there and take any of that.”

“No siree,” Sunny agreed while she gulped down the tequila, “We small town, Sol, we don’t go looking fer trouble. But that Joe Cobb, he fucks with our town, we’re going to fuck his gang.”

Solmund knew exactly how these people feel. Powder Gangers, they were a bunch of filthy criminals. His old ranger squad could’ve taken them out easy. Back when they were still troopers, they’d gone to do a few missions in the past to capture a couple of raiders similar to the Gangers. But had never done anything on larger scale, the lieutenant wouldn’t give them the orders. They held back in Baja for almost two weeks, and by then the raiders were far and gone. Curses. It looked to be about time to release some steam onto these Gangers, at least that was what Sol thought.

“Joe Cobb,” said Trudy, “I’d pay anything to see him pay. Reminded me of one of your Great Khans buddies the other day when they went in here. Funny folks, not from around here. Asked around for directions and one of them accidentally knock my radio over. Jerks.”

“Can you tell me anything about them,” Sol said, “and the one in checkered suit?”

“Yeah I don’t know much other than what that cowboy robot already told you.”

“Yeah, well that’s a shame…” Sol said, “mind if I take a look at your radio, I know some tinkering stuff, might be able to fix it.”

“No harm in doing so, here,” Trudy showed him, “I would like to hear more about stuff outside. Heard there’s a war going on.”

“You know anything about these wars, NCR? Legion?” Sol said, while using a screwdriver to open up the frames, “I take it you folks don’t see a lot of visitors around these parts. At least, not NCR or Legion.”

“No, but I’ll be moving back to New California if the Legion comes,” Sunny joined in, “even though there ain’t much for Legion to take here. Although I have heard a story about some Legion and NCR folks while back too, some mountain ranges in the west crumbled due to some earthquakes or something. The NCR and the Legion had troops up those mountains, and word is that they all got trapped. God bless those poor souls.” 

“Well,” Solmund said, while tinkering away, “Way I see it, is Kimball is spending way too much efforts and money on these war efforts. If those stories about the mountain ranges in the west is anything to go by, it means that Kimball doesn’t know what he’s doing. The only reason he has so much power is because of the Dam and Lake Mead, he practically runs a monopoly on water in these parts. A lot of traders switched from trading with the Hub to trading with NCR. Price’s going through the roof, giving NCR a butt ton of money and for what? For General Wait-and-See to hold his rangers in Baja and chase ghost and had us trying to find a needle in a hay sack, when we could just buy the needles off some merchant.”

Sunny asked:

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that Kimball doesn't know a damn thing about running the dam, they try to get NCR dollars to replaced bottle caps, but their gold mines are absolutely pathetic. Destroyed by Brotherhood few years back, now they switch back to Caps, NCR dollars are worthless in these parts now, and yet they still insist that it has any value. They try to do too much with too little efforts. I’d rather they put a lot of efforts in helping one family getting food and water rather than spending little efforts to recruit untrained soldiers from multiple families.”

“Well…” Trudy stopped awhile, thinking.

“Don’t matter none anymore… Legion’s come knocking and NCR better be prepared to answer,” Sol put the final piece of cog in and started flicking the switch, the radio turned on right away, they could hear Mr. New Vegas’s soothing voice.

Trudy burst out in surprised:

“You did it… finally. I’ve been waiting for days for this to come back on. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Eh, don’t mind me, just trying to do my best. So anyway… back to the matter at hand, Ringo, where’s the guy.”

“He’s staying up in the gas station, next to Doc Mitchell’s house, can’t miss it.”

“Good.”


	3. Who's Laughing Now?

“And there we were,” Solmund said, “I was going around, loading up my six shooter, had them all out in front of the saloon, Pete’s dynamite buried beneath the soil, and a single step – BOOM, they all started booking rooms in Satan’s motel. I started shooting, too. Brains were everywhere, messy stuff, you wouldn’t like it. The worst part is obviously the cleaning up afterwards.”

“You got that right,” said the red hair girl, “that’s Powder Gangers for ya, they die the messiest death.”

They were in a bar. An NCR bar, Solmund sat right next to a red hair girl with at least two dozen bottle of whiskey laid out on the table. They were drinking, and drinking hard. The redhead called herself Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And yes, Sol didn’t get any of that either. Strangest name he’d heard all year for sure. Folks around called her Cass, though, don’t know why, strange girl. She wore a leather jacket over a red plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. She had a cowboy hat made from straw.

“So things ‘round here treating you alright?” asked Cass, she was nearly drunk now. She was a good drinker. She could probably drink a whole barrel and still not get drunk. That was some mad skills. She said she’d been in a couple of fights while drunk as well, although Sol wasn't sure whether that made her more dangerous or just another harmless drunkard.

Of course, this was the NCR Outpost. People around wouldn’t be so happy if Sol started spitting out hate speech about NCR. They'd probably send troops from back home, report him to California and the whole Western world will walk through that Long 15 gate and give him at least a million and a half slaps to the face, each slap from each citizens. One from Cass as well.

“Well, things are alright around here,” Sol said, “Been talking to Major Knight, seems like an okay fellow.”

“Yeah? You had business with the Major?” Cass asked.

“I was asking to dispatch troops to Primm, a town not far from here. Got convicts running all over the place. Maybe get an NCR sheriff down there. Also I was looking for a pardon for one of the prisoners, figured Primm could use the extra hand. Maybe finally NCR can start doing some good around here…” Cass didn’t hear that last part, she was too busy gulping down the liquor, “Things could be better though, the cars below the two statues are just a pain in the butt, especially for the caravan.”

“I hate those statues,” Cass almost yelled, definitely drunk now, “Have I ever told you the story of Long Dick Johnson?”

“Yes, several times actually,” Sol said.

“Great! I’ll set the scene, 2257, Johnson came into a bar in 188 Mansion, and said ‘I wanna build a statue, a statue to honor me because I’m a tall Richard and here’s my Long Richard. HA-HA.” Cass laughed aloud. Sol didn’t laugh though, he wasn’t anywhere as drunk as Cass was. And before long, Cass passed out on the table, spilling the Whiskey all over the floor. 

“Alright,” Sol sighed, “I suppose I ought to go to the Crimson Caravan like you told me, maybe I’ll be able to find your caravan papers. Sweet dreams Cass.”

Sol liked Cass, she was a carefree person. She had a certain spark of life in her that reminded him of some of his old ranger buddies back in Baja. These were real rangers, pure 100 percent Desert Ranger, without any of NCR stains on them. They used to sing around camp fires, Marty Robbins’s Big Iron, and some of them played Frank Sinatra’s Blue moon using the harmonica. Those were the good ol’ times…

 

 

 

 

   

“What happened here?” Solmund was shocked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t have you put on a cross like these filthy degenerates, it’s good that you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of this town… look at it, take it in…”

The town was in complete ruins, there was nothing left. The trees on the side burnt down in the middle of the road, there were spears thrown everywhere. In the middle of the town was a bonfire as huge as a house. It burnt the street and the buildings. The worst thing was of course, the bodies. They piled up like Black Mountain. NCR, Powder Gangers, it didn’t matter, they were all the same. Dead.

Solmund recognized the uniforms immediately. Football gears with red crosses on them. The red flag with the golden bull emblem. This was the hooves of Caesar’s Legion. There were at least 10 of them standing before Sol. The one in the middle wore a wolf hat, with thick black shades. He spoke with a soft voice:

“Do you see it? Do you see Nipton?”

“But… but…” Sol stuttered in horror, “but why?”

“Why else?” He said calmly, “Anyone who lived on Nevada’s land knows just how horrible a place Nipton really was. I am called Vulpes Inculta, Frumentarius of Caesar’s Legion. And I am here to teach a lesson to the wasteland, to the people… to the Profligates.”

“What?” Sol yelled in shock, “What possible lesson do you have here? Killing these people, slaughtering an entire town.”

“Where do we begin?” Vulpes said, “That they are weak and we are strong? That much is known already. No, the true lesson to be learned here is corruption. Nipton was a town that served all comers; it didn’t matter to them, as long as they have caps or paper bill in their pockets. NCR, Powder Gangers, Legion outcasts. The people here did not care. A town of whores. The town is a perfect example of what an NCR state is like. Corrupt, divided, and self-serving. They must be punished, for we are the Legion. And betrayal is a crime that demands punishment. That’s when I announced that these people, whores, gamblers are going to play their favorite game: they were going to draw lotteries. Each one of these degenerates grabbed their tickets, hoping that they and they alone would be the one to be set free. This is what the NCR had become, and this is the price they must pay.”

“By slaughtering innocent people?” Sol retorted.

“Innocent? Hardly, not by a mile,” said Vulpes, “Only a fool would call these people innocent. They are children of sin. They are too far gone. They are begging to be destroyed. And destroy them we did. In their places, a new better society of people will flourish. But first, the NCR must learn a lesson.”

Solmund looked Vulpes in the eyes with a blank expression, he didn’t know what to do. Vulpes only smiled.

“I know what you’re thinking, drawing your guns and thinking you can kill all of us,” said Vulpes calmly, “No, don’t even think it. We are much stronger than you, we are Legion. Even if you managed to kill us, Caesar’s wrath will be upon you. So I suggest you remember this day, remember this town. A lesson is to be learned here.”

And like that they walked right passed Solmund, one by one, each Legionary carried a stern look. A cold pair of eyes. Sol couldn’t even work up the courage to draw his pistol.


	4. Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Solmund walked up to the big green dinosaur holding the gigantic yellow thermometer. It seemed to be made out of some sort of stone. Some kind of old green brick. The stones, the bricks looked as if it had been standing around through countless generations of sandstorms and sunshine. Sol’s head was still hurting a bit but he finally remembered the place. The dinosaur, no matter how many times he walked under its majestic jaws over his many years of travels, he would feel an overwhelming sense of nostalgia: a remembrance of the old world. Old America.

The town Novac was a peaceful place. It was a town for the caravan traders. At least eight men were walking around the area in leather armor. Sol suspected that they’re Crimson Caravan folks. This was an especially favorable place for them to trade as well. The town was known for a good deal of scrap metal trading. God knows we don’t get much of that around here anymore, he thought. So the scrap metal from the Repconn Test site had very high price tags on them. Scavengers liked to go about the place, picking up what they can.

The town had a couple of houses about, but the big housings were obviously the motel and the bungalows. Those are the more pricey ones to rent.

Solmund walked up the wooden steps of the dinosaur. Folks around here called it the Dino Gift shop. That was Cliff Briscoe’s shop. And honestly Sol had no idea what to expect walking up the place. With what Jeannie May said, Cliff seemed honest and nice enough, but with the wasteland, anything could happen.

“Hello, welcome to the Dino Gift shop, please come in,” said a middle-aged man with dark skin, he had a deep voice. Wore a dull brown shirt. Sol assumed this is Cliff.

“Hi,” Sol replied, “I heard from Jeannie May that there’s a gift shop up here. I take it that you’re Cliff Briscoe, nice to meet you. My name is Solmund, you can just call me Sol.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Cliff shook Sol’s hand, “Come on in and take a look. There’s a lot of good stuff to go around. We sell lunchboxes, branded by New Vegas folks, we also sell fresh water for you to buy. And I think I’ve got some snowglobes around, regular edition, though. Only God knows where those limited edition ones are. Ha-ha.”

“Thanks,” Sol went about browsing the merchandise for awhile. These were very pretty stuff. Especially the snowglobes, it was small, and easy to carry around. It felt like carrying a piece of the Old America inside your pockets. They felt like something that had been around for years and will continue to be around for a few more decades.

Solmund then asked:

“Say, do you have anything else?”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve got plenty of things for yer. Our special deluxe edition Dino Toys and Repconn Rockets are half price off.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Sol said, “What about weapons? You know, ammunition and ballistics? You got any?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to buy any of the Dino Toys? They’re great souvenirs, folks around here like ‘em a lot.” Cliff said.

“Um, thanks, but no thanks, I don’t really have anything to carry it around with me. It’s going to be quite difficult to move around.” Sol said.

Cliff sighed sadly:

“Darn it, no one ever buys the Dino Toys. I’ve been having them on shelve ever since I set up shop here. Truth is, most folks come in here to buy bullets and rifles. While I’ve got plenty of that, it’s the Dinos that I want to get rid of.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sol, “I’d love to help but I can’t. I’m sure you’ll have customers for those things soon.”

“Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it too much. I can get by okay with them dinosaurs on the shelves anyway, so what…”

The door on the stairs to the left suddenly opened and a tall lean man walked down. He wore a red beret and a red sweater with some leather armor over on top. He had a hunting rifle on his back and also a small moustache. He spoke with a soft low voice:

“Hey, morning Cliff, could you go and buy me some lunch down there with the Crimson Caravan folks, here, I think I have a few caps lying around somewhere.”

“Sure thing Manny,” answered Cliff, “Oh, here, Manny why don’t you say hello to our new guest, his name’s Solmund, called Sol for short.”

“Huh? Oh yes, hello Solmund, nice to meet you, my name’s Manny Vargas.”

“Pleasure’s all mine Manny,”  Sol answered smiling.

“Here, that’s 11 caps, try to get me a big juicy Bighorner steak. If you don’t have enough then just use some from your own pockets, I’ll pay you back later.”

“Right,” and with that Cliff went out of the Dino shop.

“Cliff’s a nice fella,” said Manny, “You won’t find a better friend like him. Hey you kinda look familiar.”

Manny said as he glanced over Sol’s ranger duster.

“Are you a ranger?”

“Nah,” said Sol, “Used to be, I left the army before I went out any official missions. They let me kept the coat and this big gun right here.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Manny looking at the Ranger Sequoia, “Well, I myself was once in the NCR army. I was assigned into the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion troops. Specializes in sniper troops.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Solmund, “So you… um, a spotter.”

“Yeah,” Manny confirmed, “How you know?”

“Ain’t it obvious? The binoculars around your neck.”

“Oh, silly me.”

“So who’s your partner, your sniper?”

“Yeah, that would be Craig Boone,” said Manny, “But we folks ‘round here calls him Boone instead of Craig, don’t know why. Anyway, if you see a rifle sticking out of the big Dino’s jaw, you can bet that 50 percent of the time it’s going to be me up there. Otherwise it’d be Boone. He and I take turns, I take the day shift, while he work nights.”

“So you’re like the town’s police?”

“Well, yeah, we’ve also got Ranger Andy downstairs, too. But with his broken legs he won’t be going off anywhere further than a mile. You might say that there’s not much to do up there besides a couple of gecko attacks but actually there’s also been some Legion spies going around as well. Right across east of here. You go down that road and you’ll see Nelson, that’s Legion camp.” Manny sighed, “Well, that’s the life of a sniper.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sol smiled, “Back in Baja, me and my ranger troops used to go on recon missions all the time. Although, we didn’t have any Legion encounters.”

“And let me tell you that that is Lady Luck’s fortune on you. The Legions are a bunch of savages. I wish I can just go into early retirement, that’d be great, I’d rather be at your posts in Baja than here with troops at Hoover Dam. Sometimes I wish I was dealing chems again, like I was with the Great Khans.”

“What?” Sol startled, “Wait a minute, you were a Khan?”

“That’s right, we were the toughest sons of bitches in the entire wasteland. We don’t take shit from nobody and we deal chems with everybody. As a matter of fact, it reminds me of a couple of Khan folks who came by Novac the other day. Strangest thing ever, they were with a city boy…”

 

 

 

 

**Few weeks ago…**

“Hello…” Sol called across the counter, it was still early in the morning, “Anybody there?”

“Be right there in a minute.”

Solmund was waiting for this moment. Ever since he got shot in the head back in Goodsprings’s cemetery. He wanted answers, and Johnson Nash was the right man to provide answers. John was an African American, he had many wrinkles on his forehead with a pair of squinting eyes underneath, and his ears were wide. He was carrying a cardboard box, so he wasn’t looking in front of his shop. Had his back turned while walking out to the counter.

“Alright, sorry about that,” He said while putting the box down under his chair, “Got a lot of stuff here that I need cleaning so please excuse my mess. So how may I… no…  _you_!”

Solmund stared straight down his eyes. John looked as if he had seen a ghost. And maybe he did, maybe the old ranger before him really was a ghost. He just didn’t know it yet.

“I heard ya,” John said, “on the radio, I thought you were dead…”

“Well…” Sol answered, “You can’t keep me down for long.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that it’s going to take a lot more than lead to kill me.” Solmund said, almost coldly, “Now, I’m sure you may have some question regarding my condition but I need answers. I’m sorry to barge in here like this first thing in the morning, but…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” John said, “so you wanna know the truth huh?”

“Yeah, that order you gave me. Tell me everything you know about it.”

“Okay,” John sighed, taking in his breath, “I’d start off first by saying that with nearly three decades of experience working in this courier office. That package that we had was the strangest package by far. You’d be dull if you didn’t stop for a second look. There was a cowboy robot…”

“The one in the casino?” Sol asked, “The one named Primm Slim?”

“Naw, nah, not that one,” John denied, “It was blue robot, taller with big shoulders. The robot had us hire six couriers. Each carrying something a little different, a pair of dice, a chess piece, etc. When I filed the reports it seemed that payments were already made for the other jobs. Seems like those other couriers went about as smooth as butter. I guess that it was just you and your little poker chip that got a little hiccup along the way. First deadbeat we hired to do the job cancelled. Hope a storm from the Divide skins him alive.”

At that moment, something struck another chord in Solmund’s memories, he wasn’t entirely sure. John continued:

“We had this fellow a few months ago, big fellow, got big biceps going on, wore a blue jacket with some red smudge on his back or something. I can’t for the life of me make good use of my eyes anymore. He was about to take the job until he saw your name on the list. Strangest thing, too. He had this look as if he couldn’t believe it. Turned right around. Asked me if your name was actually authentic. I told him yeah, it was a sure as the day had sunrises and sunsets. Right there and then, he declined the job, just like that, said that let Courier 6 carry the package, as if the Mojave’d sort you out or something, maybe some sort of special snowflake.”

John paused for a moment, it made Sol a bit uncertain.

Sol asked:

“So is that it?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. I told ya, it was a strange day. Cowboy robot came in, told us to do some delivery and left without say a single word.”

“Well, alright then, thank you,” Sol said, “So did you… perchance happened to come across a bunch of punks in leather jacket and a city boy wearing checkered coat would you?”

“Oh,” John exclaimed, “as a matter of fact I did, they were Great Khans, and a boy with slick smooth silky hair. Came by a few weeks ago. Asked for directions and left few days after. I don’t know much more though, however I think that Deputy Beagle may know some crucial information about them folks.”

“Good,” Sol said, “Thank you so much John, I guess I’ll be looking for the deputy then.”

“Wait, hold on a minute, you’re not serious are you?” John said, “No, you can’t do that. You mustn’t, Deputy Beagle is being held hostage by a bunch of escaped prisoners in the Bison Steve hotel over yonder. Now normally we would’ve paid off the ransom and let them convicts get their asses on the road. But we just don’t have enough caps for that. Please, don’t go confronting them convicts, I’m sure we can find another way to rescue the deputy, I wouldn’t want another good man dead on my conscience, and you seemed like one of the better folk around here. I just can’t…”

“Don’t worry about me, John. Like I said, it’s gonna take more than lead to put me down for good.” 

With that he loaded his revolver and headed out.


	5. The Sniper

“So, this eyebot here, what is it?”

Johnson Nash said:

“Don’t know, not really sure myself. There was this funny looking courier who walked in here some time ago. He carried the eyebot and just left it here. I tried my best to fix the darn thing, but it wouldn’t budge.”

“That so?” Solmund said, thinking, “mind if I take a look at it?”

“Sure, why not, it’s actually more of an inconvenience more than anything else in here. On one hand I’m losing a lot of caps wasting money on getting scrap metal and fission batteries trying to fix the darn thing, but on the other I’m not sure what this thing does, or whether it’s useful or not, it could even be dangerous.”

Solmund took the screwdriver and opened up the frames. Inside there were nearly a thousand electrical wires all wrapped up like a bush, all with red, blue and green colors that was too complicated for normal men to comprehend. There were also six fission batteries in total on the bottom, correctly wired up with the system. On the side there was a small keypad, Sol tried fiddling with the operating system, to see if it spark any juice. Nothing. After a couple minutes of digging, Sol finally found something.

“Ah, here we go,” Sol said, relieved, “The personality module is missing.”

John looked a bit confused:

“The what?”

“The personality modules, you know… the thing that gives a robot some personality, happy, sad, and so on. They were manufactured mostly for Mr. Handy models. There’s a big slot in the eyebot here with wirings specifically for those kinds of modules, although the frames are very outdated, seems to be only basic personality modules, probably just enough to make some beeping, or some kind of noise.”

“Err…” John scratched his head, “didn’t know that eyebots have personality modules.”

“Yeah, it’s quite rare.”

“So you know what to do with it?” John asked.

“Yes, but the operating system here already had an existing database which only works for a custom model of those modules. I’d have to try to reverse engineer this and try to manufacture a new module.”

“So what can we do?”

Sol looked at John, then answered:

“Nothing. Until we get the module, it’s just another hunk of junk. I’m going to have to leave the robot here. I can’t take it with me. Ah, I know! How ‘bout this, how about you go ahead and send this robot through the Mojave Express dropbox. Just go ahead and send it to the town Novac in the east. I’m going to Vegas anyway so I might as well pick up the eyebot once it got there. Also there’s the Repconn test site a few miles off, I might be able to find something there.”

 

 

 

**Few weeks later, in Novac – 9:02 pm…**

“Goddamn it, don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you want?”

“Wow, hi there…” Solmund said, “Where’s Manny? I thought he’s supposed to be up here.”

“Didn’t you hear? Manny takes the day shift, I go by night.”

Solmund suddenly realized. He said:

“So, I assume that you’re the one they called Boone.”

“Yeah, what if I am?” he snapped coldly.

“Sheesh, not very friendly are you.” Sol said.

“So what? You’re the one who came up here and wanted to meet me. You try doing night shifts from time to time, see if your nerves’ still intact.” Boone said.

Boone was a very well-built man, he wore a red beret just like Manny. Sol recognized the symbol on the beret, it was the signature look for all 1st Recon troops in the New California Republic army. The insignia of the bear was there, too. Alongside with its signature motto: the last thing you never see. There were many things that Sol might not have agreed with in the NCR but that motto might be one of the very few he agreed with. He'd trained with 1st Recon back in Baja back when he was still serving as a regular NCR trooper. Many of those troops wielded hunting rifles and cowboy repeaters. Just like the hunting rifle Boone was holding at this moment. Sol was also very impressed by the fact that there were a fair share of 1st Recon troopers who used regular rifle with no scope attached, which was a very impressive thing considering they were snipers. And by the look of it, Boone’s rifle’s scope seemed to be detachable as well.

“Well,” Sol finally said, “Sorry to bother you, I’d be going then.”

But before Solmund could reach for the door, Boone stopped him:

“Wait…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re new in town, a stranger,” Boone said, again, in a cold voice, “This might be just what I need. Look, I need you to do a favor for me.”

“What?” Sol exclaimed, surprised, “Just like that? Just a minute ago you sounded like you’re the only person in the world whom you’d trust.”

“Look, I have a plan, alright,” Boone snapped, “And the plan only works with a stranger, that way nobody in town would suspect a thing. It’s not much in the trust department but it’s a start. You’d just have to take my word for it.”

Solmund did not know what to feel about this. The stranger whom he just met was asking for a favor. Sol had no idea whether he was being genuine or he was just planning something dangerous.

Boone then explained:

“I need you to go into to town and investigate something for me. Many months ago, the town suffered a Legion attack. Not a full scale invasion, mind you. But more of an… infiltration. A couple of spies snuck into the town, nobody got hurt, but my wife Carla, was taken. Nobody else, not even the Brahmins were taken, just her… she’s been set up and I just know it…”

“So…” Sol hesitated, “you wanted me to help you find your wife?”

“No,” Boone said immediately, “I know she’s been taken by legionaries, and now she’s dead.”

“How did…”

“I just know she’s dead alright, and let’s leave it at that.” Boon sighed, “No, what I want is to find the bastard that sold my wife to the Legion. I’d never imagine one the folks in town would do something like this, I’ve been here for quite some time now, these are nice folks… felt like I’ve been betrayed. Do this favor for me and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh…” Sol thought about it for a minute, but it was not like he’d got much of a choice on his hands, “Alright, what do you want me to do? Find the bastard and take care of him?”

“No, I need to do this myself. What I need from you is that for you to bring the son of a bitch who did this to my wife and bring him in front of the dinosaur… here,” he took off his beret and handed it to Sol, “Once you get there, put this on so I’ll know that it’s the cue and then… Imma teach that bastard a lesson or two.”


	6. Cactus Flower

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, if it ain't my old friend back in Goodsprings!”

It was early in the morning, just the night after Solmund had a meeting with Boone. Sol had had some time to think things over, and honestly he had no idea where to start looking for the asshole who sold Boone’s wife off to the Legion. He rented a room from Jeannie May from the Dino Dee lite front desk. It was nice little cozy room upstairs. Right next to a singer from New Reno. The singer was alright, not too troubling or too loud. Not that he wanted to be loud or anything. Loud was the last thing he wanted.

Sol came downstairs after he had breakfast, a grilled iguana on a stick, and to his surprise. The cowboy robot with a wheel and big blue shoulders came at the front gate.

“Victor!” Sol exclaimed, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve got a signal call from my internal radio ordering me to go to Vegas. See, I’m a Securitron model PQD-88b produced by RobCo. And did you know that the mind behind the greatest industrialized company is staying in New Vegas? Well he’s there alright, and I was ordered to go and meet the man. So I reckon I’d take this route instead of that… err… eastern route, near Sloan. So don’t mind me, I ain’t following you around or anything.”

“It’s alright Victor…” Sol smiled, “So what do you think of the town? Purty nice place huh?”

“Novac? Nice enough place I suppose… but between you and me, when I rolled into town my skin started to itch. Watch yourself. It’s just ain’t as nice a place as Goodsprings, got this feeling that we’re being watched, might as well be invisible people walking around the place.”

“Oh, well then I guess I’ll catch you later.”

“Happy trails, partner,” Victor said, “I’m just going to refuel and be back on the way. Oh, and if you ever get a chance to get into the New Vegas Strip, be sure to check out the big casinos, I’m sure there's a lot there to help you on… um… your little quest in finding that rapscallion Benny.”

Sol decided to start with Cliff Briscoe. He might be able to tell him something. He walked up the wooden steps and into the Dino Bite gift shop. And there he was, standing behind the counter.

“Hi, Cliff.”

“Morning Sol,” said Cliff, “Had a good night sleep?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t slept in a proper bed for awhile. Usually it’s just a bare bed mattress or just a long piece of leather I found somewhere on the road. Not very hygienic but hey, this is the wasteland, what’re you going to do about it?”

“Yeah, darn right.”

“So Cliff,” Sol began, “I’ve been up the dinosaur’s mouth yesterday, and I’ve been talking to the sniper.”

“The sniper… of 9 o’clock?”

“Yup.”

“Ah, so Boone. You’ve been speaking to the fella huh? Not the warmest guy around but very decent at protecting the town. Even if a bloatfly came in from 100 yards away, he’d shoot it down instantly.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Solmund, “He mentioned his wife, I was wondering about her.”

“Carla? Oh yes,” Cliff said, “She came in to town with Boone. I think they got married in Vegas or something.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Oh sure, you could tell right away that she’s a New Vegan. A city girl. And let me tell you she didn’t like this town for one bit. She always had this kind of sour look whenever she came into the Dino gift shop. The girl never liked staying here. Always nagging Boone to leave this ‘dump’ and head back to Vegas. Boone wasn’t very happy with the thought, but he was happy whenever she’s around him so I guess that’s one of the only reasons why folks around here tolerate her. Anyway…”

The door behind suddenly flung opened. Jeannie May walked in. She sure woke up early. It was strange, though. Jeannie stayed in a house over near McBride’s Brahmin ranch. Instead of just staying in one of those pricey bungalows or the motel rooms. There wasn’t much rooms rented away anyway, only Bruce Isaac, the singer and Daisy Whitman, an old lady who's living upstairs.

“Morning, Cliff, morning Sol.” Jeannie said, smiling brightly.

“Morning.” Sol and Cliff both said.

“So Cliff, can you get me a bottle of water.” She asked.

“Sure, I’ve got a bottle right here. That… will be 23 caps.”

“Here, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Come back any time now.”

“So,” Jeannie May said, “What are you two boys talking about?”

“Ah,” Cliff grinned, “Sol here was just asking about Boone’s wife, Carla, you remember her right?”

“Ah,” Jeannie’s smile suddenly died a little, “She was always such a difficult person.”

“Don’t suppose you know anything about her do you?” Sol asked.

“Well, how do I say this…” She paused for a while, thinking, “I guess the best way to described her is that she was like a cactus flower. Really purty to look at but not easy to get close to. Know what I’m sayin'? She was always complaining about how the town is really dirty, really unhygienic and all that stuff. Some people just can’t appreciate what they have, they keep wanting more and more. I myself blame that blasted city Vegas. The so called ‘Golden Oasis’ in the middle of a desert.”

“Well…” Sol said, “I don’t think this town is that bad, it has a… quaint feeling to it.”

“Thank you,” Jeannie smiled, “at least I know there’s some good people still around.”

 

 

 

 

“Who are you?” The old man in rags shouted, “who sent you, I know nothing, you won’t get nothing from me.”

“Wow, easy there,” Sol said, startled by his eccentricity, “easy there old man, I’m not here to harm ya.”

“Well, No-Bark don’t believe ya,” the old man said, “You try to suck my thoughts, aren’t you? Well you ain’t getting none of that. My mind is protected by a layer sticky water, it keeps me safe from the Gecko people from stealing my thoughts.”

“Okaaay…”

Sol paused for awhile, didn’t really know how to respond to the man. He supposed that what they said about the wasteland was true, anything could happen. And anything could break a man. Poor fellow. Maybe it was radiation, maybe it was trauma, or maybe he just hit himself with a baseball bat, didn’t really matter none now that it happened.

“I should be going,” Sol said, “It’s nice meeting you, though.”

“They’re comin’,” No-Bark shouted, “I’m tellin’ ya, there’s something suspicious goin’ on in the town, cave rat told me men wearing red clothes dug a hole underground into the town the other day, they took the cactus away,  _they took the cactus away_.”


	7. One For My Baby

Solmund stood in front of the door before him. It was midnight, the moon was out, and it shone brighter than stars and the setting suns of Nevada.  He didn’t know if he had the courage to do this. But after what he found out in the afternoon, it secured it as absolute evidence of what was needed to be done.

He knocked on the wooden door of the bungalow, a couple of seconds afterwards, a head popped out of the door into the darkness.

“Afternoon Sol,” Cliff Briscoe said, “are you out on an afternoon stroll?”

Solmund grinned at him, almost with regret:

“You could say that, yeah, I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I might go for a walk.”

“Well, the air sure is nice tonight.”

Sol paused for one whole long minute. Cliff stared at him, with almost the intention to go back into his bungalow. But before he could, Sol started to speak:

“Cliff… could… could you come with me, there’s something that I need to show you.”

 

 

 

 

**At noon, 11:13 AM, the same day…**

“My name is No-Bark. And that’s all you’re gonna get out of me, I ain’t gonna tell you more about me.” Said the old man in rags. He was somewhat small, with a slouching posture. He wore rags that look as if it hadn’t been washed for a thousand years, and maybe it really was some sort of cave man attire he found while scavenging somewhere. He had white beards, white hair that was messier than a crow’s nest. 

Sol stood there awkwardly, didn’t really know how to react to this man here. He was honestly a bit scared of approaching the old man. He didn’t seem right in the head. But he did have a curious statement.

“Hey, um, No-Bark,” Sol said, hesitantly, “you said something about red men and cactus earlier, you don’t mind telling me about it do you?”

“The thing is, I was out the other night doing my usual patrol. My troopers were there with me, I was the lieutenant of that division. You see we were doing our nightly patrol ‘round the routes here. And suddenly we saw a whole legion of men wearing red leather skirts marching into town. They were the roughest and meanest sons of bitches around. They looked suspicious. Had the look on their face as if they’re here to deal with the mafia or something. Me and my troopers would’ve taken them easily with our rifles but… um… they had sharp claws, that’s it! Very sharp claws, we were outmatched… anyway, they looked very suspicious indeed, the kinda suspiciousness that I’ve seen throughout the whole town, all day every day. I didn’t see the whole thing, though, it happened so quickly, but I did saw them taking away the cactus.”

“Suspicious? In Novac? How?”

“Well, I don’t trust a man who’s got nothing strange going on in his life, a man who doesn’t have something to hide. If a man goes about town with pants on his head, speaking words backwards from time to time and started eating his shoes, you know it’s all laid out for ya. The man's got nothing to hide. But if he’s the kind of guy that’s polite, kind and nice to strangers, keep his home spick and span without as much as a grain of dust, you can then definitely tell that more likely than not, the man’s done something so horrible not even his own Ma could forgive.”

“Right…” Sol said, still a bit hesitant in believing him, “and you heard about this where?”

“Oh, everywhere, they’ve got spies and invisible people everywhere. Turns out invisible people aren’t so farfetched. Early the other day, I was just talking to McBride about how his Brahmin keeps dying during the night. I told him that we’ve got a chupacabra on our hand, he said that them Brahmin got holes in their bodies, and I told him that, well, looks like we’ve got a chupacabra with an automatic weapon on our hands, and that’s when things got real quiet. All these things aren’t so hard to believe ya know. I’m telling ya, they’ve got spies everywhere, they’ve made an underground system with metal tubing and everything. Mr. Molerat told me that there’s some sort of hollow underground entrance somewhere in the Dino-Bite motel front desk. Although, I haven’t really checked it out myself, but…”

 

 

 

 

**Midnight, 11:57 PM…**

“Can I ask what on earth are we doing here in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, Sol,” Cliff said, “even if folks ‘round here like things peaceful and slow doesn’t mean that they don’t have work to do in the morning ya know. I gotta set up shop at the crack of dawn, and I need a full night sleep.”

Sol did not answer them. He ignored them… while staring upwards towards the dinosaur. He turned around facing them. They were standing on a rock on the side of a road. Sol, Cliff and Jeannie May.

Sol took out from his inner pocket a pack of cigarettes, a bit moist, but didn’t matter none. It was still usable. Sol held it up to Cliff and Jeannie:

“Want a cigarette?”

The two of them seemed uneasy, Sol smiled then said:

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, it’s not actually cigarette. It’s kinda medicinal, harmless really. I synthesized it myself. Lately I’ve been getting lungs troubles, so I gotta smoke one of these babies from time to time.”

Cliff grinned at him, then reluctantly took one out from the pack. Sol took out a lighter – it was the same lighter that that rapscallion Benny used to light his cigar. The idiot dropped it back at the Goodsprings cemetery after he shot Sol in the head. He lit up his cigar then proceeded to do the same for Cliff.

Jeannie May had a look of a grumpy little gnome. She was really pissed, but then again who wouldn’t? Waking up in the middle of the night and walk out to the street for no reason.

“I gotta ask ya a question,” Sol said while smoking, “what do y’all… think of the town, what do y’all think of Novac?”

The question came out of nowhere, both Cliff and Jeannie were caught off guard. They thought about it for awhile. Cliff holding his knuckles to his chin, while Jeannie May fiddled with her glasses.

Cliff then finally said:

“Well, I have been here for a long time, I like it here. I grew up with the Caravan folks you see, we travel a lot, there’s a lot of places we traveled in this Western land, the Hub, Shady Sands, so on, but we don’t stay for long, you see… I don’t know… I guess it never occurred to me. I just got pretty tired when I got here, I suppose, and I told myself ‘eh, why not make camp here? it’s not like I’m going anywhere.’ So I just… stopped, ya know…”

Solmund took another sip at his cigarette, a deep breath and exhaled, brilliant smoke lit under the moonlight, it was quite a peaceful sight actually. Sol grinned at Cliff, who then returned with a smile. Sol looked to Jeannie.

“Well…” Jeannie said, pondering a bit, “I never really did enjoy the city life, ya know. It’s loud and bright, full of sex, booze. It’s a city of vice and sin. Not enough people out there appreciate the quaint and quiet feeling of the simple life around here. This place… this place… it’s home to me, I’ve seen all sorts of people come and go throughout the years, the people that came are usually traders, they don’t stay long, but the ones that did stay long. Those are the kinds of people that I would give my life for. This town, Novac is home and I will do anything for it to stay that way…”

Sol took another breath from his cigar, he smiled brightly. Jeannie smiled back. 

Sol took off his black cowboy hat, then said:

“Do you really mean it? About the town?”

“Yes siree,” Jeannie answered right away, “cross my heart and hope to die.”

Sol chuckled:

“That’s all I needed to hear…”

And like that, in a flash faster than a split second, Solmund tackled Cliff Briscoe to the ground. He hurled the old shopkeeper behind a nearby rock on the side of the road. Cliff did not even realized that Sol had put on his head a red beret. Soon after that, before Cliff or Jeannie could even react, a gunshot was heard. Crimson blood splattered onto the moon. It was time to bury the dead, Solmund thought to himself quietly - It is done…

 

 

 

 

“That was a risky move Sol,” said Boone, almost at the verge of bursting in anger, “I could’ve killed Cliff, ya know that?”

“But you didn’t, did you?” Sol said, “You… knew it all along didn’t you? About who did it?”

Boone sat there, pondering with both his knuckles up his chin. He seemed sad, but somewhat satisfied, but in a way that pained him. Strange.

“I…” Boone said, timidly, “I… never… deep down… I might have known who it was. The look in her eyes, that’s what gave her away… I… just didn’t want to be right.”

The two of them were back at Boone’s motel room. It was a small chamber downstairs over by the corner of the motel. Sol had Cliff went back to his bungalow, he wasn’t the kind of guy who was used to seeing bloodshed, it did took him awhile, but Ranger Andy finally managed to calm him down. Andy was a nice fellow…

Sol went by the coffee table with a bottle of whiskey. He took a glass and poured some in. Gulped it all down in one shot. Sol wiped his mouth then said:

“I needed him to see it… Someone has to know… who did it. She’s six feet under now, but… it didn’t really change much.”

He gave Boone the papers – those were a pile of papers Solmund found while he snuck into the Dino-Bite motel reception counter. He didn’t find any underground network like No-Bark said, but he did found a little safe. Boone took the papers, and for a whole minute, he just stared at it. He didn’t even move an inch. Sol could’ve sworn that he heard Boone sobbing behind the papers, but maybe he was just imagining things.

“So that’s that then…” Boone muttered, slowly, set the papers aside, “now I know… that I was right.”

“I’m so sorry, Boone,” Sol said softly, “about your wife.”

“Don’t worry about it…” he said, “it’s over now. Jeannie… I never thought…”

“There’s nothing more to say about her, Boone,” Sol assured him, “If another man from Vegas came by and decided to talk trash about Novac, she would’ve done the same thing again. It’s best that she’s gone.”

“Yeah… maybe…”

They paused for a while. It was as if Boone and Sol had found a sense of mutual justice that they had set out to exercise that day. It was two o’clock in the morning now. The dead had been buried and the sickness… gone.

“So,” Solmund began, “what will you do now? After that… err… um… incident… do you think… they’ll come after you?”

“Don’t know,” he muttered, “maybe they will, maybe they won’t but… I still have a job to do. The town, it needs me… but honestly… I don’t really know what to do now.”

“You can’t stay here forever you know that?”

“So what if I do?” Boone snapped.

“There are people out there…” Sol said, “Scumbags who would even do things worse than selling their own people to a bunch of savage slavers. It’s a wasteland Boone. You can’t stay forever, you try staying here, and the wrath of the Mojave will come after you and it will not be merciful… besides… you’re a sniper, you’re going to need a spotter, and… err… I don’t believe Manny is up for the job anymore, not that you’ll take him as a spotter if he is up to the job anyway.”


	8. Hey Smoothskin!

“This is a very bad idea, Sol. If we ever make it out of this alive, I’m going to kick your stupid little a…”

“Shh…”

Boone and Solmund were now at the path leading up to the Repconn Test Site. It was a long path way reaching nearly a mile as far as Sol could tell. It must have been a seriously top secret military base back then. There was a security station and also a small camp with a bunch of ammunition boxes lying around. It was midnight, the moon was howling and the winds were scratching at Sol’s duster. 

Sol and Boone were sneaking around. Reminded him of his old days back then doing recon missions. And with Boone by his side it was like home sweet home. Sol took out his binoculars and looked afar to where the actual site was, about a few hundred yards downwards. There was a big rocket model in the front of the entrance. Normal scavengers would usually mistake those for actual rockets. But you never know, it is the wasteland after all, anything could happen, Goddamn, how many times am I going to say that to myself? Sol thought to himself, with a slight grin.

There were ghouls, at least three dozen of them, and in the middle there were two Glowing Ones. Manny said that the ghoul problems were troubling but Sol never thought there would be this much going around.

“How’s it looking?” Boone asked.

“Ghouls, dozens of them.”

“Well what are we waiting for?” said Boone while loading his hunting rifle, “Manny said to get rid of them, might as well just kill them all. I'd rather not mess with ghouls but since we're here... Let's do it before they see us, it might be troublesome if that happens.”

“Something doesn’t seem right,” Sol muttered with hesitation, “feral ghouls don’t go around in a group as big as this. And certainly not as organized as this either. And they’re here at the Repconn Test Site of all places too, I wonder what they’re doing here.”

“Well, only one way to find out.”

Sol loaded his Sequoia and with Boone on his side, they marched their ways down the slope to the Test Site. The night was beautiful. It was a clear Nevada sky without a single cloud hovering above like a murky pile of mud. The moon was out tonight; and with that the moon gave Boone and Sol the blessing of the Mojave. 

Solmund fired the first shot, the bullet flew downwards like silver lightning striking the earth. They were still a few hundred feet away and yet the Sequoia managed to obliterate the ghoul’s brain. It was swift and it was quick. Despite being older than the rocks around them, Solmund still had not lost his touch in the revolver. Sol pulled back the hammer and fired another shot, this time it struck at another ghoul’s knee and he crumbled like sticks.

Boone started firing as well. He was a good shot. Fired three bullets in a blink of an eye and the last bullet actually pierced through two brains at the same time. He was in the 1st Recon troops for a reason. Not even the best rangers or the best snipers Sol knew was this good with a gun, at least not before they became true rangers. Maybe bringing Boone along wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Solmund emptied his cylinder and reloaded the Sequoia. This gun was getting hungry and it was feeding time. He started slamming his palm down at the hammer and just like that in under a split second six ghouls bit the dust at the same time. Boone took care of one of the glowing ones, while in the next second Solmund slammed the butt of the Sequoia into the other glowing one’s brain, it splattered everywhere. It was quiet now, Sol didn’t think that the ghouls even had a chance to growl or scream. Praise the moonlight… 

“Well…” Boone said, he dropped the empty magazine and inserted a new one, “I suppose that we’re done here.”

“Not yet,” Solmund assured, “there’s bound to be more ghouls inside the facility itself we need to go inside and see what the hell is happening.”

 

 

 

 

“ _Hey you, yeah, you. I’m talking to you smoothskin._ ”

A voice was booming from an Intercom not far from the front door. It took both Sol and Boone by surprise. Sol didn’t think that the machinery around here were functional anymore. With the scavengers over the years picking the place apart, it should all be in ruins by now. This must mean one thing, somebody had gotten here and started to rebuild the place, but why?

“Who are you?” Solmund asked the Intercom, hesitantly getting closer.

“ _Who I am doesn’t matter smoothskin,”_ said the voice _, “What’s important is that you do exactly what I tell you to do._ ”

“And why is that?” Sol said.

“ _Just do it alright, Jesus. If you don’t want to do it then just get your little scavenging ass off of our property and stop wasting my time. Listen, follow the path through the office area and into a big room in the back. There you’ll find a couple of stairs leading to a big metal room, go there and we’ll talk more later_.”

“Tell me again how is there any motivation for me to do all of this?” Sol asked, challenging the voice.

“ _Just do it okay?_ ” said the voice, he sounded pissed, “ _Jeez, are you brain dead? It’s just a simple task, I’m not asking you to go to the moon alright, now stop wasting time and get on with it.”_


	9. Ghoul Heaven

 

Solmund and Boone walked through the big heavy metal door upstairs in the room. Boone did not know what to make of this, he at first thought it was a simple task of clearing out ghouls. He’d done things like this before, plenty of times on Legion troops. But there was something in him that was making this seemed so… uncertain, and unsure of himself. 

They walked through the door into a large hallway. Surprisingly the hallway was lit a lot brighter than the office area downstairs. And there was another surprise, there stood near the Intercom on the wall was a man. An actual man inside this facility filled with ghouls. He had a moustache and was bald, he wore a white lab coat. A scientist?

“Jeez, you’re even uglier in person. I can’t believe people let this kind of thing walk around unnoticed.”

The scientist said with a condescending tone, he had a deep and hoarse voice, it sounded unnatural somehow but Sol knew that it was his voice, “just go and talk to Jason Bright and he’ll tell you everything.”

Both Boone and Sol were speechless due to a human being here. 

Boone said, almost stuttering:

“You… you’re a human.”

“Don’t play your little human tricks on me smoothskin,” the scientist snapped, “I’m not going to fall for it. Don’t mistake me for one of your puny pathetic smoothskin kind. Now stop wasting my precious time and go bother Jason, Jesus Christ.” And with that he stormed off and into the other room.

Boone then looked over to Sol, a bit concerned.

“Well,” Sol said, “somebody haven’t been looking the mirror all their life, am I right?" He nudged Boone. 

Boone didn’t answer though, but for the slightest moment, Solmund found a little spark on his face, just a bit, not much and he could’ve sworn that he’d seen Boone grin. 

The facility here was a strange place, it was some sort of laboratory with chemistry set all over the tables and an abundance of microscopes. There were ghouls, ghouls everywhere. They were not feral, though. They had harsh skin and a hoarse voice so deep it vibrated Sol’s ears. There was also a large container of RadAway and Rad-X over by the corner. A supply that was big enough to trade with the Crimson Caravan for a whole week. Sol wondered why the ghouls needed this much Rad-X. They were already immune to radiation anyway.

Far away Sol and Boone saw a tall ghoul walked towards them through the hall. He was lean and taller than the other ghouls. He was actually a glowing one. But the radiation around him didn’t seem to be as deadly as other glowing ones. He was much easier to approach. He wore a brown suit with one of the leggings ripped apart. Sol didn’t think that he mind that much though.

“Greetings,” The ghoul said in a booming voice, “welcome travelers, welcome to our sanctuary. You must be exhausted. I hope the night has been treating you well. I must apologize for Chris’s behavior. He doesn’t exactly overt towards outsiders… Oh, silly me, where are my manners, my name is Jason Bright, I am the leader of the Bright Brotherhood, we welcome you to our sacred grounds.”

“Hello,” Sol replied, “My name is Solmund, you can just call me Sol. And this grumpy sniper here is Boone.”

Boone glared at Sol, a bit bitter perhaps. 

“Greetings, to you both.” Jason said with a warm smile, “My apologies for my fellow brothers, we are not used to seeing outsiders, much less ones that are humans.”

“Yeah…” Sol was about to explain why they were here but he had a feeling he shouldn’t…

“So,” Jason began, “I have no doubt that Chris had told you to come to us. Am I right?”

“Yes, but…” Sol stuttered.

“Yes? Is there something troubling you?”

“No, no,” Sol assured, “it’s just that… this Chris fellow… he’s not a ghoul… is he?”

“Ah, yes, well spotted. It is a rather complicated matter you see,” Jason said, he seemed troubled, or even pained, “we can discuss this later if you wish but right now… we require assistance. Walk with me.”

Solmund and Boone followed him into the facility.

“You see,” Jason explained, “we are the Bright Brotherhood, my fellow mutant ghouls around here and I all believe in the equality and justice that common ghouls all deserve. But it would seems that this world was not made for us. If it is not the wasteland full of monsters that will kill us it will be the horrid treatment other humans have on us that will. I myself have watched countless of my feral brothers suffered in pain. They seemed too far gone but in truth their minds are still out there somewhere, and I believe us Brotherhood can bring them back. But alas, many hunters and travelers would fire their foul weapons at our brothers at the mere sight of them. It pains me to see them like this. But worry not my fellow ghoul brothers because I have the answer. I Jason Bright have spoken with the Creator himself, and visions upon countless visions had predicted our fate in this world. We must embark on a pilgrimage on the Great Journey to the promised lands of the creator of the Great Beyond. A place where I have seen in my vision is a place where my fellow suffering ghoul brothers may rest in peace and live harmoniously in the land of the Lord.”

Sol and Boone were listening, no wandering eyes or distraction. Jason continued:

“The preparation for this great pilgrimage will be prepared on this very test site, a place used by Old World scientists back then to test rockets and flying vehicles. The Creator had promised us the land, and it will be the land beyond space and time itself. A prosperous land. But alas, preparation came to a halt during one of our praying session the other day, where invisible blue skin demons attacked us. Do not take me for a fool, dear travelers, because what I speak of is the truth. The demons came out of nowhere and thwarted our plans. They have taken refuge under this facility’s basement. If they don’t leave soon then our preparation for the Great Journey might never be completed, And the longer we wait the more ghouls will suffer from the wasteland. So please travelers. We implore you with all the will of the Creator to please help us solve this problem, get rid of the invisible demons and let us get on with our preparation in peace. Please, dear travelers…”

Sol and Boone looked at each other expecting one of them to object or came out calling this a bad idea. But both of them realized that they did not have much of a choice.

“Oh praise the Creator,” said Jason while looking to the sky, “praise our Creator in heaven. It must be then, that it is destiny that brought these two wonderful humans to us in our time of need. Your will shall be done, and we will be eternally grateful to you my Lord.”

Afterwards Jason sent both Boone and Solmund to the basement. He told them to report back to Jason as soon as there were results. They knew the task was urgent, but both of them didn’t move immediately. They stood there at the metal stairs with each other. What they realized then was clear and absurd, because not even Boone at that point could hold in a laugh.


	10. The Ghoul

“HA-HA-HA… OH MY GOD I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING…”

“Jesus Christ would you stop it already!”

“… GHOUL HEAVEN! AHA-HA-HA… I’M… HA… SORRY, I CAN’T… HA…”

It was about at sunrise at this moment. But that was only what Solmund assumed anyway. Boone and Sol made their ways down to the basement of the facility. It was huge, Sol didn’t think that the facility would be this big. The underground network stretched at least a mile long. There were a lot of piles of machinery down here with scraps of metal lying around everywhere. A piece of a screwdriver here, and a piece of a hammer there. What on earth happened here, Sol wondered. But only God knew what the Repconn folks were really doing down here. For all he knew, they might be testing for some sort of serum for a kind of super soldiers. Scientists are crazy that way.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Something was wrong here. Solmund heeded Jason’s warning about some sort of blue skin invisible monster. Sol had an idea of what it might be. The gas pipes were making some funny noises, screaming from the walls. But then the walls… they were suddenly silent. 

They walked a few more feet to the next hallway, there were blue lights. And out of the corner a loud thud that exploded right before them. And there – just a few yards away, a hideous blue face with bulky teeth. It roared like a beast. 

It was a gigantic monster, standing over ten feet tall. It wielded a massive hammer, and just like Jason said, it had deep blue skin. It caught both Boone and Sol off guard but the two managed to grab their guns and started unloading on the beast. It was strong, and tough, too. It was only after at least a dozen bullets to the face did it finally fell to its knees.

“Nightkins…” Solmund said, “Careful, there might be more.”

 

 

 

 

It was tiresome, clearing out the whole entire basement. There were a lot of grounds to cover. A lot of rooms around the place hidden away behind big metal sheets and piles upon piles of papers. The compound got underground network stretching at least two miles long. Big enough to be able to hold at least a few thousand people. There was a gigantic tunnel underneath a metal room in the far corner, following it further down would lead to another facility entirely with big rooms of electronic equipment and computers. Then there was the underground test site…

“The invisible demons were a difficult bunch to deal with,” Jason said, “But thanks to you, an agent from the Creator himself, you and your comrade were able to vanquish the monster. Now the procedure for the Great Journey can begin again, praise the Creator.”

“There were a lot of Nightkins down here,” Boone told them.

“Yeah, but we managed to take care of them,” said Solmund, “their leader though, was very curious.”

“Oh? How so?” Jason asked.

“Well,” Sol explained, “the leader, he was taking orders from a Brahmin skull… yes, I’m not joking, he’s literally talking to an imaginary Brahmin.” Sol giggled. Jason seemed to not understand what Sol was laughing about.

“Very well then, we should get to preparation of the Great Journey, just a few more components needed into places and we are good to go.”

 

 

 

 

After a couple of errand runs back to Novac and the scrap yards around the facility, Solmund and Boone managed to contribute and helped in aiding the ghouls. They just need a couple of more components, electronic parts and scrap materials to prepare for the trip. Apparently they were going to use the old rockets from the facility to launch themselves into space. Just the thought of that put smiles and giggles in Sol’s mind. They were also wearing space suits made out of a strong plastic component that was strong enough to withstand the force of a gigantic hydraulic press. They were strong suits, Sol thought to himself: I think that these ghouls are serious about going into space. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“So you grew up in a vault?” Sol asked.

“Yes,” Chris said, “word is that the vault lies somewhere east of Vegas. I never bothered to check. The way I see it is that the quicker I get out of that vault the better.”

“You don’t really mean that do you?”

“Of course I do,” snapped Chris, “Them folks back home never treated me right.  _Oh, you need to take this list to the overseer? Tell Chris to do it, he won’t mind. What? You need to take care of some rat infestation? Chris can do it, he won’t mind. Ooh? There’s a problem with the nuclear reactor, just send in Chris, I’m sure he won’t mind the radiation, he’s already ugly as it is._  As you can see after that I got exposed in the reactor… at least Jason and his group treats me right here in this place.”

He really was convinced that he was a ghoul, despite his skin not having a single sign of filth or dust. In fact his face was the face of a young man.

“This is where I belong, you see,” He insisted, went over the computer and started typing, “I’m a ghoul… and ghouls must stick together in a harsh world like this one. I can’t afford to go back. Them folks back at the vault, they won’t understand… they can’t understand… damn, why is the program not working… probably a network failure…” Chris whispered to himself.

“You honestly don’t really think that do you? I mean what about your parents?” Sol said.

“I…” that caught him off guard. Sol reached across to him.

“Here,” he said, “it’s a bug in the system. You just need to add in this equation then reboot the program aaand… voila.” The terminal started up like it had never been broken. Chris stared at Sol in awe. He’d never seen anything like it before. 

“You know,” Chris said, “If them idiots back at the vault had someone like you looking after the reactor, there probably wouldn’t even be a single problem in the whole vault…”

Suddenly Chris started to sulk. Sol had seen Chris be this grumpy petty little man, but never had he witnessed Chris all moody like this. There was a dark cloud over him and he felt cold.

“I…” He muttered, “I’m useless… I’m a nobody…”

“Hey,” Sol said immediately, “Don’t say stuff like that alright. You are NOT useless. What I see before me is a man willing to fight. In this wasteland, the land of the free they call it, we have absolutely no obligation to help anybody but ourselves. And yet here you are, a mechanic helping the troubled ghouls from oppression…  only those who possess true willpower and dignity would fight for those around them, fight for the ones they care… and right now? The Brotherhood needs you…”

“You know,” Chris said softly, almost sobbing, “if them idiots at Hoover Dam had someone like you looking after the wasteland… there probably wouldn’t be a single problem left in the world…”


	11. The Child

The preparation was almost complete. Everything should be in motion now. There was plenty of rocket fuel to go around. There were a bunch of prototype barrels containing a new oil substance which was quite potent. But the rocket were mostly going to be using the nuclear barrel in normal cars used in the Back When times. Those energy fuel cells were powerful enough to send these rockets past Mars. They were huge rockets, that was for sure. As big as a building. If Sol had to estimate, he’d guess that it was the size of about seven super mutants. And there are three of them, all big and painted in bright red. They were almost back in working condition now, or at the very least be good enough to make the trip, Jason had made sure of it. 

“I would like to thank you both once more,” said Jason as he approached the two of them, “This Great Journey could never have been a reality nor would it even come close to being complete if it weren’t for you two. You two were a blessing from the Creator himself, I’m sure of it. We, the Bright Brotherhood thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

“So is everything in order?” Sol asked, “It’s been three days now, it should be completed by now right?”

“Almost,” said Jason, “I’m having Chris in the back room working in the final details, once that’s done, we are good to go.”

“I gotta ask though,” Said Sol scratching his head, “Where is exactly this Great Beyond you mentioned? I mean what kind of place is it?”

“Normally,” Jason explained slowly, “we are not allowed to reveal to outsiders the secret of our great pilgrimage. However, you two are not of the outside world but instead a blessing from the Creator himself, therefore you deserve to know.” 

Boone sneered when Jason called them blessings from the Creator, but Jason paid no attention, instead he continued:

“You see, the Great Journey is in fact a gift from the Creator. It is a gift of atonement for our harsh treatment of this destructive wasteland. The Creator is a being of love and compassion, he feels for us ghouls who faces hate and mistreatment every day. Therefore he has given us the chance to begin again. In the land where I’m sure that all of us can prosper under the soothing radiation. It will heal our wounds, our minds.”

It suddenly struck Sol, he had a feeling, but he didn’t want to believe it. He glared into Jason’s eyes, almost mad. On the verge of breaking.

“You,” Solmund said, “… you… you never intended to bring Chris along… did you?

A grim look suddenly struck Jason. His eyes diverted from theirs. He looked away, and it almost seemed like he was in pain. Jason explained:

“When… um... how… how do I say this… when Chris came to us. It was night, he was actually injured that day. There were bruises everywhere, he even broke one of his arms. I knew that it wasn’t safe for him to be here for my feral brothers were not kind to strangers or outsiders. But he was hurt, how could we ignore him. We took him in, and decided to help with his wounds and return him to the human world once he feels better. But it was the strangest of things. Chris… he was convinced that he was a ghoul. Just like one of us. I didn’t think he was a ghoul of course. But then I saw it… in his eyes were the look of a child. A child in pain, struggling to break free. I’ve understood everything about Chris’s past life even before he introduced himself to us. What I saw was a child, full of hope and enthusiasm in doing what he loves. And what he loves doing is tinkering with the machinery. He loved doing it, but Chris is a man who’d been crushed by the human society, the outside world… so how could I… how could I say no… how could I crush his hopes and dreams once more?”

“But the Great Journey,” Sol said, “You’re just ditching him here?”

“I couldn’t risk Chris’s life,” Jason said, “The radiation on the Great Beyond will rip Chris into pieces the moment he set foot on land. As much as he wanted and as much as he deserved to go for all of his dedication… I… we… can’t do it.”

“So you lied to him,” said Boone coldly.

“I take no pride in doing such thing.” said Jason, almost imploring, “you have to understand… what Chris said was true, despite him not being a ghoul… he is still one of us. And as the teachings of the Bright Brotherhood goes. We cannot bring ourselves into harming him… I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

 

Sol didn’t know what to do at this point. Boone had been telling Sol to just drop this and leave. Just go home and tell Manny that the ghouls were taken care of. He’ll never know. The Bright Brotherhood was going into space anyway, so there was no point… maybe he was right. Sol thought for a long time, what exactly could they do in this situation? Chris was in the back room repairing a couple of components, just minor details. Jason had told him to just finish up the final details and then after he was done with the final launch codes he was to join them in the Great Journey. So it began…

“Chris…” Sol said while he was in the underground command room, a lot of ghouls were now over yonder in the space suits now. They were down in the main launch pad, while Chris was here behind a wall of glass.

“Oh, hey Sol,” said Chris, “the final preparation is finally complete. We can begin our Great Journey.”

Was it too late? Sol thought to himself, should they tell him… about what Jason told them? Could he still make it though? But what if Jason was right, will Chris be killed if he set foot on this so called Great Beyond? So many questions, for just one little engineer.

Suddenly from the intercom over to the side of the wall came a loud boom, just like the sound exploded when Sol and Boone first came into the facility. Jason suddenly came through to the center of the launch pad where the rockets were.  He was wearing a space suit, in bright red along with a big glass helmet, just like in one of those old cartoon films.

Jason began speaking through the intercom:

There was a moment of silence for awhile, Jason’s mouth was clearly moving and talking but there was no noise, no sound. Nothing came across. All the ghouls stood around Jason can clearly understand what he was talking and yet they heard nothing. It went on for a whole minute as the darkness over the dome at the launch pad fell on them. Jason was talking, Boone and Solmund were watching them, and in the back Sol and Boone can distinguish one sound throughout the whole silence, the sound of sobbing…


	12. The Man

“LET GO OF ME,” Chris yelled at the top of his lungs, “Imma kill that bastard, do you know how easy it is for me to do that? LET GO, I WILL BLOW THEIR ASSES TO THE MOON, PAINTING IT CHERRY PIE RED, LET’S SEE WHO GETS THE LAST LAUGH THEN…”

But before Chris could do anything, Solmund delivered a quick right hook right to his jaw. There was a loud snap that exploded at his face. Luckily Sol made it so that it wasn’t enough to dislocate his jaw. Sol was rubbing his fist from the power of the impact. Chris was doing the same with his jaw. Boone was nearly speechless, he couldn’t think of anything to do. There was a good long minute while Chris lay there on the ground, still feeling the aching from his face.

“That’s enough,” said Sol, his voice was deeper, more serious, “I’m not going to stand around taking any more of your bullshit.”

Chris stared at him in disbelief, but he didn’t responded.

“So what if you’re no ghoul? So what if you don’t have a place in travelling to the Great Journey? So what if you can’t take the radiation of the Great Beyond? Do you know how selfish you’ve been ever since you’ve met Jason? In fact, do you even know how selfish you’ve been throughout your entire life? These are people who cared for you. Jason, he took you in as if you were his own son. Did you honestly think that he'd have the heart to hurt you? Even your folks back home, back in your old vault. There are still folks back there, who cared for you. Don’t deny it, I know it, in your eyes… I… I know how you feel, Chris. You’re confused, heartbroken. I have been there myself, believe or not. Over sixty years of experience made me the man who I am today. The Mojave is a god, the land does not give you easy comfort unless it had already tested your limits. But do you know why it tests your limits? Because the land cared for you, it feels your sorrows, our sorrows. These sorrows are one with another, both mine and yours, and even Boone's.”

Chris could not even manage to look Solmund in the eyes. He was on the verge of sobbing again, but Sol knew that he won’t. He was a stubborn man, no doubt. But he was also very strong. He could make it.

“The land is a god, Chris,” explained Sol, “so instead of trying to leave behind your past, looking for other new lands. Why not try to cultivate this old land? Mend old wounds, because I guarantee you that you won’t find a better land, not after the bombs fell that’s for sure. And trust me, I had tried looking for new lands myself…”

 

 

 

 

They were in the control room upstairs. There was a clear view through a big glass to the whole test site. The view looked out to the front and entrance, and on top of a hill a few hundred yards afar was the dome where the launch pad was. Three big rockets, all set to fly.

“Strange,” Solmund said, “this launch code…”

“Yeah?” Chris asked.

“The algorithm is somewhat faulty.” Sol said, “I mean the equations are fine, but it’s just not very effective or efficient. I can change the algorithm of the launch code to a more efficient ride, particularly saving on fuels and increase in travel speed by 12.5 percent to be exact. Simple.”

Solmund tapped on the keyboard and under a matter of seconds the launch codes were improved significantly. Now all that was left was to activate the codes. Just one simple button.

“Here Chris,” Sol said, “I think you should do this… they're your rockets after all…”

Chris stood there with Boone standing watch in the back. He took a deep breath, no doubt this was the most important point in his life. And he perhaps might not even have the strength to do it.

Solmund and Boone stood back when Chris pressed down the heavy button and there was an alarm that sounded loudly throughout the facility. It was time. The dome on the launch pad started to open up slowly, you could hear the loud metal creaking noise even behind the thick glass. There the three red rockets started to rise above and just in time for the warm Nevada sun to rise above the rocky mountain ranges. It was majestic. There were loud horns, horns that were music of the sky. It was the heaven, the clouds were angels. It was as if it was the second coming of Christ. Then it all took their breath away when the sky opened its majestic and grand arms, accepting the ghouls into the higher sky. The sky devoured them, and it was beautiful. Sol, Boone and Chris were stunned for at least three long minutes before they started to move again. Sol can faintly hear Chris muttering goodbye to Jason.

 

 

 

 

“Thank you, Sol,” Chris said, they were down at the test site entrance, “if it weren’t for you… I don’t know what… I…”

“It’s alright, Chris,” Sol assured, “I understand.” Sol smiled at him, and for the first time, Chris smiled back. Sol then said:

“You should go to Novac, it’s a town not far from here. Go meet with a man named Cliff Briscoe, he can help you with a room. He owns the gift shop up the big dinosaur, you can’t miss it.”

“Do… do…” Chris stuttered, “Do you think that… I have a chance… I mean a chance to begin again… with the folks at Novac ? Will they like me?”

“You kidding?” Sol laughed, “of course they will… what’s not to love?”

Chris almost burst into tears again, but Sol could see right through him. He was trying be strong, trying to act tough. And for once Sol was glad for this pretense. Both Boone and Solmund waved Chris goodbye as he made his way down the road of the test site.

“Well, you’ve been awfully quiet lately, Boone, well, more quiet than usual that is.” Said Sol, almost mocking.

“You can’t fool me Sol,” Boone suddenly burst out, “you’ve been smiling the entire way since we launched those rockets. Something’s obviously on your mind, what’s up?”

No matter how you put it, Boone couldn’t be more correct on the matter. Sol grinned warmly, Boone was still standing there, waiting. Sol then explained:

“You know how… I’ve been laughing at this… cult of ghouls… don’t take it the wrong way. I do not despise people like these. There’re plenty of people out there who are willing to call Jason Bright crazy or even stupid… but… I’ve always believed that there’s a force greater than all of us combined, and it would take a million years before we even discover a fraction of such power. No matter how you look at it. The belief that these folks carry with them held true. It strengthened their minds, I mean look at Chris. He was willing to believe so badly that he’d go through this whole road of dangerous ghoul to take himself here. I guess what I was laughing about wasn’t how absurd Jason sounded. It was rather on how… throughout countless decades of facing weirdness throughout the wasteland, a religious cult was the one that would get the most laugh out of… even though back before the war, people like Jason were as plenty as sand on the desert, nothing strange, tacky or ridiculous about that… I guess it just goes to show… that we as people should not be concerned of what people think of our actions, our beliefs… we should just do it. And one day, it will take us beyond the stars.”

Boone did not expect that answer. Maybe he had a feeling that Sol would went on saying something like this. Deep down inside he grinned, but just a little, because maybe… just maybe… Sol could be trusted after all.

“Wait the minute,” Solmund said, he held up his Pip-Boy on his wrist, it was a large clunky like watch that displayed a vast array of data and information, whether it was health, financial status or inventory and so on.

There was something wrong though. Solmund started to twist the knobs on the Pip-Boy, there was a loud siren noise. It was hard to adjust, it took awhile before there was an audible sound that came up. It was a loud warning from a deep voice:

BEWARE THE BATTLE CATTLE AND THE TWO HEADED BEAR PEOPLE…


	13. Crazy, Crazy, Crazy

“Well that was fun now wasn’t it?” Solmund laughed, “I’m getting old, Boone. These things… help with my back, and lately it’s been hurting all over, I needed the exercise.”

Boone was panting like he was about to die. He was leaning on his rifle due to how tired he was. Solmund didn’t pay any attention to that, though – too busy loading his revolver.  Boone struck Sol with a menacing glare, but then again, a menacing glare wasn’t anything to Sol. It just made him laughed.

“You know…” Boone said, still panting, “When this is all over… I am going to murder you so hard… you’ll die again on the other side.”

Sol laughed:

“I’m going to live longer than you… and that’s a promise.”

And sadly, Boone knew it was true, he probably could live to a million years if he wanted. It was just a matter if he wanted to live that or not.

The two of them was at the very summit of the place they called Black Mountain. And apparently this was where the Nightkins came from. A so called utopia, it was a society of nearly thousands of Nightkins and Super Mutants. Sol and Boone had killed a few dozen of them already. There were a lot but they managed. Boone himself would admit that if it weren’t for Sol being here with him, he would never have made it. Sol’s weapon of choice was his Ranger Sequoia, and Boone knew that Sol can use that pistol better than any ranger in the NCR. It was almost as if Sol wasn’t human. 

The summit of Black Mountain was a large area with three buildings on the side. And the radio tower right in the center. There seemed to be nothing around except dead Super Mutants which Solmund and Boone had already taken care of. There was a sign on one of the doors of the building that said it was the storage room. So the two of them went in, might as well.

The room was large, and it sure was one hell of a storage room. There were a mountain of loot and items lying everywhere. Items ranging from bullets, empty bottles to garden gnomes, traffic cones, tricycles and even big rocket launchers. What the hell had the Mutants been doing, Sol wondered.

“Well this is a mess.” Boone commented.

“C’mon,” Sol told him, “let’s loot the place. We could sell this for a fortune.”

Indeed it was, it was like some sort of troll’s treasure on the mountain. No wait, it literally was a troll’s pile of treasure on a mountain. Guess fairy tales sometimes do come true. Sol was going around the room, picking up ammunition from boxes, there were a handful of caps as well. Suddenly, something caught Sol’s attention.

“Boone,” he called, “come and take a look at this.”

“Oh.”

“I know…”

It was a big Mr. Handy model robot. It had big blue metal plates on the sides. Sol turned the robot around to see if the parts were still functional. There were a few rusted pieces of metal here and there but definitely not too bad. It could very well be still functional but only to be deactivated recently.

“So… what do you wanna do with it?” asked Boone.

“Meh… I don’t know, there could be some batteries that are still functional. We’ll just have to see.”

“This is for that robot isn’t it?” Boone suddenly said, “That eyebot… thing that you’ve been wrapping around your back?”

“Yeah,” Sol agreed, “The eyebot here is almost fixed. I just need a few more parts to get the personality module up and running and the eyebot should be good as new.”

Solmund was about to take up his screwdriver and dig open the metal frame when Boone suddenly stopped him.

“Wait!” Boone told him, “Look,” he pointed to the side of the robot where Sol could just barely make out the words that spelled RHONDA. Of course. Solmund had only just realized it now. He heard the robot on the radio. The Pip-Boy caught a strange radio signal up east of Sloan. It was a radio station apparently hosted by two crazy people. One of them called him – or perhaps herself Rhonda. The other announced them to be called Tabitha. Rhonda and best friend Tabitha. By the looks of the robot, it had been out of commission for at least a couple of months. There was no way in hell that could be Rhonda’s voice on the radio… Unless…

“I know what to do.” Sol said while at the same time popped open up the insides of the robot to take a look. There were a lot of wiring, bolts and nuts lying around. All the mechanical parts had already been put in its exact location by a masterful hand. Either the Mutants suddenly started to have mantis fingers and gained super precision or maybe they just had a mechanic around here somewhere doing their work for them. Didn’t really matter, because it looked as if the mechanic knew how to fix the nuts and bolts but he or she did not know how to fix the computer system inside the robot. The system’d crashed, it was going to need to be rebooted, luckily Sol knew how. He fiddled around the buttons for a few minutes before a smile appear on his face. He could feel it roaring inside.

The robot suddenly woke up. It was as if it was by magic’s hands. Boone’s jaw dropped way to the floor by how quickly he fixed the bot. He might as well be fixing machines while in his sleep. The Mr. Handy model made some squeaking noises and creaking noises between its joints. It fidgeted uneasily for a couple of seconds before it started to float above the ground like a regular standard robot model. Amazing, it was fully functional.

“OH HELLO THERE HUMAN!” said the robot in a somewhat deep voice, “PARDON ME, I HAVE BEEN OUT OF ORDER FOR QUITE SOME TIME. QUITE DREADFUL IT WAS… I KNOW I’M ASKING THIS OUT OF THE BLUE, BUT COULD YOU BE KINDLY ENOUGH TO SHOW ME TO MY BEST FRIEND TABITHA?”

It came out of nowhere. Both Boone and Sol didn’t know how to answer this. They looked at each other nervously. But just before the robot could start to get suspicious, Sol blurted out:

“Yeah… sure, follow me, I know where she is,” obviously they did not think this through.

“GREAT, LEAD THE WAY.”

However just as the two of them, Boone and Sol were stuck on a little hiccup. Near the entrance of the storage room came a loud thud as if it was a battering ram. It crashed through the door. It was the last of the Nightkins. You could tell right away, she was bigger than most Super Mutant, and yet she looked absolutely ridiculous. She wore a brilliant yellow wig along with a pair heart-shaped shades over her eyes. Sol did not know whether to start shooting, or to write this down in the book of bad jokes: a sniper, a cowboy, a robot and a big buff lady walked into a bar...

The Super Mutant called Tabitha suddenly burst out in an earth quaking deep voice:

“Huh, Rhonda!? You’re… you’re okay!”

“OH BEST FRIEND TABITHA, IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG, TOO LONG. I DO SO VERY MUCH MISS YOU A LOT I MUST SAY, BEING OUT OF COMMISSION LIKE THIS WAS SIMPLY DREADFUL. FOR SOME REASON I SUDDENLY WOKE UP. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.”

The Mutant looked over to Sol and Boone, stuttering:

“You… you fixed my friend Rhonda… I… I don’t know how to thank you enough… I… thank you so much… Rhonda!”

Apparently so, the weirdness just didn’t seem to end. Sol was used to it by now. But by thunder, these events just kept getting weirder and weirder every day. And maybe… just maybe… for once Sol was grateful of it. Otherwise it would have been quite boring… quite boring indeed.


	14. Names of the Past

**_34 years ago, Dry Wells…_ **

“Hey there, don’t be afraid… my name’s Solmund. But you can call me Sol.”

He was a young man, about twenty something, African American by the looks of it. He had thick dreadlocks for his hair. It was actually kind of fascinating how he managed to tie his hair around like that. Sol had never seen anything like it. Most people around the wasteland went about surviving off the land so the least of their worries was how they dressed and how their hair looked. The man wore a long blue duster, much like Sol’s but only this one was sleeveless. He also wore some pretty big boots as well.

“Come on, come out,” Sol urged the young man, “the Deathclaw is dead. You don’t have to worry about it.”

The young man was hesitant, not too sure at first but then slowly came into the lights where it showed his features a lot clearer. His face was firm and strong and yet he was still very young. You could tell right away that this young man was born to do great things. He was strong, he had the blood of the land within.

The youngster came out standing before Sol. He was quite tall, a few inches taller than Sol and yet still very young, or so it seemed.

“So…” said Solmund, “what’s your name?”

It took a minute or so before the young man answered reluctantly:

“Oscar… my name is Oscar Grant.” He had a deep voice for a man his age.

“Oscar huh?”

“Yeah, but the chieftain of my tribe calls me Odysseus. A name he found in one of the old books.”

“Ah, the name of the ancient epic Greek hero I assume,” said Solmund, “usually given to brave and strong adventurer, are you one of them?”

“I suppose in a way…” Oscar said, he had a somewhat quiet manner, somewhat shy, “The chieftain said that I usually goes off hunting for big games and wouldn’t return for many days, but once I return I had game big enough to feed the tribe for an entire month.”

“Then a fitting name it is.” Sol complimented.

“What about you,” Oscar asked suddenly, “How did you get your name?”

“Ah…” Sol thought for a moment, “me dad gave it to me, told me it was the name of an old king. King Solomon. My full name is Solmund David Solomon. Said he gave the name to me hoping I’d grow up to be the smartest, wisest son of a gun that ever walked the wasteland. Heh… what a load of crap.”

“So are you wise then?” Oscar asked.

“Me? Well… um… aren’t we all wise to a certain degree. We’d have to be in order to survive the wasteland.”

“True.”

“The way I see it is that it’d be wise to not let your name decide who you are. After all it’s just a name. Names are like titles, when people tell stories of Solomon the Wise, the name usually makes an impression. But it could all very well be a load of crap for all I care. Names can be false as well as be part of a kind of false hope. The folks back home wanted me to be wise and smart with me name. But would they accept me if I was Solomon the Dull? I think not.”

“Either way, Solomon or not, you seemed capable to take care of yourself.” Oscar commented, “It took at least three hunters from my tribe to take down a Deathclaw, you took it down all by yourself.”

“The trick,” Sol explained while reloading the revolver, “is to know where to shoot. Deathclaws are mighty quick on their feet, and their claws are sharp like blades. One strike and you’re a human kebab. So all ya gotta do is take out the legs and it’ll be crawling like a pathetic little slug.”

“The big hunters from my tribe said that we should go for the arms. Their arms are awfully long, so the joints are quite delicate and fragile. One spear strike should leave it unarmed.”

“Hah,” Sol laughed, “either way is fine. But I must warn ya, they’ve got a nasty bite, even without their arms. One of my old mates got bitten by one and her legs were gone, bit clean off… poor Judy.”

“So where do you come from?” Oscar suddenly asked, “Or perhaps I should ask where do you currently reside?”

“Me? Well, I come from the West see, Baja, California. Desert Rangers, ever heard of them?”

“Yup, them rangers are nasty with a rifle.”

“You bet, but anyway, I don’t really reside anywhere currently. Just wandering around and see what this land has to offer. Although I must admit that it would be nice if I could get a place in that city New Vegas. Seems like a fine place to live.”

“Been an awfully long time since I’ve set foot into… such civilized place.” Oscar said, “Not sure Vegas is for me. I’m better off with my tribe, we get by very well.”

“You should be careful though,” Sol warned him, “because across the Colorado and into the Eastern lands are some nasty creatures. I’m talking raiders and monsters of all kinds of radiation. Dreadful. Not to mention the soil is not very fertile last I’ve heard. So not much crops going on I assume.”

“No,” Oscar replied, “not really, but we do have some gold mines. I’ve traveled most of the East you see, and the land is mighty with gold and silver.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, there are some big dealers out there. The most famous ones of them all is a man called Edward Sallow. He’s pretty famous around these parts, I heard he’s one of the Followers of the Apocalypse, so I assume they’re nice folks. The chieftain had a few meetings with him, trading gold and silver for a lot of our crops. We in turn head west to trade the gold and silver and get even more supplies.”

“I’d love to visit your tribe sometimes.”

“You should,” Oscar insisted, “The chief loves visitors. And there are a lot of awfully nice people around as well. You’ll love ‘em.”

“I sure will… I sure will.”


	15. Screws, Cogs and Toasters

**_Present Days…_ **

What are the odds? Sol mumbled to himself, one moment you were walking up the mountain talking with a bunch of invisible blue bodybuilders, the next you find a ghoul mechanic fixing toasters and toy cars for said invisible bodybuilders. So you just take the ghoul with you, because why the hell not? What could possibly go wrong?

His name was Raul Tejada, he was a mechanic, but apparently had a jumpsuit with name Miguel on it instead. When Sol asked why it was Miguel, the guy said he didn’t know, told them that probably because it used to be Miguel’s. Strange fella, gave Boone the heebie-jeebies. Boone told Sol that Raul wasn’t to be trusted, there ought to be something fishy about him. But Sol had seen his fair share of bastards who’d willing to stab both Boone and Sol in the back when they had the chance. Sol assured Boone that Raul did not seemed to be one of those back-stabbing bastard.

Raul was quite lean and had a lanky frame. He seemed as if he had not eaten anything for over a week. Probably due to the Nightkins locking him up in a prison – which was unlocked from a password found in a diary (the diary itself didn’t even have a password, smooth move Tabitha!). Despite all the looks and lanky frame, Raul was surprisingly quick on his feet. He walked down the mountain alongside both Boone and Sol like he was a mountain goat. A very old cranky sarcastic mountain goat. And yes, he was sarcastic, hooray, just what they needed. Oh god, this really WAS the beginning of a bad joke, better write this down.

“So Raul,” asked Sol, “How long have you been locked up there, on Black Mountain?”

“Well boss,” said Raul, “I’ve been trapped up there for more than a week that’s for sure. Because last week supreme leader Tabitha made me keep a diary… ooh and also had a password on my door. Strange girl she was.”

“How’d you get up there?” Boone then asked.

“Huh? Oh, I started listening to Black Mountain Radio not long ago. I’m sure you’ve heard of it yourself on your Pip-Boy, boss. Anyway,one day the radio suddenly stopped playing… so I decided to investigate. Turns out there’s a whole colony of Nightkins living up that mountain. And here I thought the radio hosts just had a really bad cold. I tried fixing the radio tower but as you can see, Tabitha wasn’t happy. Kept me there fixing a bunch of irrelevant junk that only God knows where these Mutants found them from. Oh, yeah, and she told me to fix her robot.”

“Rhonda?”

“Yup,” Raul said, “that’s what she’s called. I mean, I can fix her alright. The screws and cogs were all in place. It’s just the computer system that I had trouble with.”

“Yeah I saw that,” Solmund said, “I fixed that while you were gone.”

“You fixed Rhonda, boss?” Sol nodded, Raul then continued while looking surprised, “Wow boss, if I had a bottle cap for every time you bust out your computer magic and fix something… in about a hundred years I’d probably dig a hole through the prison with that same bottle cap.”

Sol was confused, he did not know whether to laugh or to tell Raul to go fuck himself.

“Is this what it’s like being around me?” Sol whispered to Boone while they walked.

“No,” Boone told him, “This… this is just Monday for me.”

Sol glared at both Boone and Raul, one part of him wanted to punch them both in the face, the other part wanted to pat on their back and come up with a wittier or a more sarcastic remark. But so far – he’d got nothing, and maybe, it was a good thing.

 

 

 

 

They walked for a few hours before they ended up north of Novac in a little junkyard. There was an old lady seen from afar. Folks around her called her Old Lady Gibson. She wore some clothes that looked like tattered rags, all grey and perhaps even filled with a little dirt. A notable thing, though was that there were a whole colony of dogs around the junkyard. No joke, they were big black dogs that looked more like wolves more than anything else. They had vicious teeth and black warm fur. Said that she raised them herself when she and they were just wee lads. They protected her and travelers passing by from vicious monsters and sometimes raiders. 

“Good morning, Old Lady Gibson,” Sol called out to her from afar as the three of them walked towards her.

“Ah good morning,” said the lady brightly, “you’re that new fellow who came into town a couple of weeks ago right? The one who got rid of all the ghouls up the testing site?”

“Yup, that’s us, me and Boone.”

Raul then nudged at Sol.

“Um, what? Oh… sorry… I mean… ahem…,” said Sol, “the ghouls left on their own… nobody was killed… anyway, Old Lady Gibson – I’d like you to meet our new friend, his name is Raul Tejada. He’s a mechanic.”

“How do you do?” Gibson smiled, “I hope things treating you alright.”

“Could be better.” Raul replied.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Lady Gibson suddenly called aloud, “Sol, you were looking for some sensor modules, am I right?”

“Yes please, I am very close to fixing this eyebot right here, I can feel it. I just need a couple more parts. Maybe this time I’d get lucky and run into the right model type.”

“Well yer in luck,” Gibson told him, “me and my boys found a couple of them out back in the junkyard inside a hidden stash box, had to fetch one of my boys to try and sniff it out. It was buried out back, see.”

“Thank you so much Lady Gibson.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on in right ahead. It’s in the toolbox on the counter. You can just leave the caps on the table.”

“Come on guys!”

The three of them walked pass the couple of wolf dogs that were getting in the way, they were quite vicious. But they didn’t attack, though. Probably because Lady Gibson was around. Only God knew what would happen if she was not here.

The three went inside and there it was, in the toolbox on the counter. Solmund grabbed the box and threw a dozen caps back on the counter. He laid the box on the table and opened it. There were 12 sensor modules. Jackpot.

“Hoo-boy,” Said Sol, he then unpacked the eyebot he was carrying around his back. He had a strap of leather wrapping around the thing, it was unstable from time to time, but he made it in the end.

“Wow,” Raul said picking up one of the module, “You traveled the breadth of the Mojave looking for all these kinds of module? That must be quite the machine you got there.”

“Yup,” Solmund answered, “At first I didn’t think much of the eyebot, but once I got the chance to dig in deeper, I found the eyebot’s matrices were actually even more complex than I imagined. It only worked with a very specific custom made personality module. The only thing I can do is shoot blind and hope I manage to recreate the… wait… oh god… YES! YES! YES!”

“What’s the matter?”

But Sol didn’t answered. Instead he started to jump up and down like a maniac who found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Only God knew where that was. He started tap dancing around the room for at least another whole minute, grinning – a big smile that stretched across his face. He finally showed them:

“I’ve found it – HA HA, at last. The frame… it’s Model 13, one of the earliest model created. It is extremely rare. Worth loads of caps, but more importantly…”

“What?”

Sol took out from the pockets inside his duster something that seemed like a piece of junk at first, but closer inspection showed that it was a module similar to the sensor modules with bits and pieces of wiring here and there and some screws on the top as well.

“I’ve finally got it,” he said with a big winning smile, “all the parts are here, all I have to do now is hook it up with this… and, wire this up a bit… just… ah… just a bit longer… and… FINISH!”

He hooked up the personality module then fiddled with the on switches from inside, afterwards closed the frames and sealed the screw with the screwdrivers. There were a couple of noises which the eyebot made from within. It sounded like it is re-calibrating its data and rebooting its system. After for at least a few minutes or so of making loud mechanical noises through the thick layer of rust, it finally woke up:

“ _Subject E: Diagnosis complete. Begin Recording. My name is Whitley… I’m a researcher at the Adam’s air-force base. Until recently I’ve been in charge of the duraframe reinforcement project for the combat model eyebots. Eyebot Duraframe Subject E is both the prototype and the last functional model in its test groups. I was prepared to make several significant upgrades to the machine however as the project was cancelled and all duraframe assets are being diverted to Hellfire Armor. I’m sending this model to the Navarro Outpost. If you’re listening to this log from one of our Enclave outpost in Chicago, give this unit whatever repairs it needs so it can continue to Navarro.”_


	16. La Petite Scribe

“HA-HA, okay, okay, stop, it tickles, ha-ha!”

Sol and ED-E were playing around, he was like a cute little newborn puppy, just a big ball of metal that was only capable of producing a couple of beeping noises due its newly installed personality module and yet it managed to float around in circles and flow around like little cute cotton ball. The eyebot was apparently much better equipped than they expected, only when the eyebot woke up did it activated its laser gun at the bottom. It was an older model of the laser pistol but it had a big battery reserves so Sol predicted it to be semi-automatic.

“So…” Boone said, “What on earth is a Chicago?”

“Beats me,” Raul answered, “If I have to guess, I’d say it’s a town of some sort.”

“It’s a city,” Solmund suddenly joined in, “a city in the state Illinois. Saw the name in one of the old books that me dad found me when I was a kid. It had the map of the United States. Although only basic information. I doubt that this so called Chicago is the same Chicago back in the years before the bombs fell.”

“Have you been to Chicago?”

“You kidding?” Sol said, “It’d take a miracle for anyone to be able to go that far. It’s up north way over to the East. Far past Arizona. Caesar’s land.”

“I thought that those were civilized lands.” Raul said, which in turns irritated Boone:

“The only thing civilized about them is the fact that they know how to hunt, eat and get water. Other than that they’re a bunch of savages.”

“Say what you want about the Legion,” Raul replied, “I’ve been there myself, and let me tell you that their ‘police’ force is on the level of NCR’s martial law enforcement.”

That was perhaps true, Solmund may have to take Raul’s words for it because he was not intending to cross the Colorado River any time soon.

“So,” Raul said, “Enclave, huh? Haven’t heard of them folks in a while. I heard that they were once even more powerful than a lot of the big nations. NCR, Legion, even Brotherhood didn’t stood a chance.”

“Heard some rumors,” Boone said, “they died at some oil rig. I don’t know, because I wasn’t there.”

“So what on earth are we suppose to do with the eyebot,” Raul said almost irritated, “are we seriously going to take it to Chicago?”

“Well,” Sol answered, “I think ED-E can handle things by himself, won’t you boy? Right now? We just need to take him to somewhere across the Colorado, far enough so he won’t be attacked by raiders or Legion. I mean, c’mon, let’s help a poor little guy out.”

 

 

 

 

They approached a little outpost on a bridge. There were a couple of merchants setting up their station in many of the old trucks and cars that were left behind on the bridge. Thank god the energy fuel inside those cars were long depleted otherwise the bridge would’ve been blown up. There were also a couple of NCR troopers around a big tent over the other side of the bridge. They were all armed with service rifles and 9mm pistols.

“This is an NCR trading post,” Boone said, “Gun Runners folks like to set up camp here and trade. It’s a good position. A lot of caravan folks go through here.”

But what caught Solmund’s eyes weren’t the NCR troopers nor was it the massive amount of traders going around on Brahmin carts. Over by the edge of the bridge was a girl, she was young and had a bright face, she could not have been over 30 years old. Could’ve spotted her from a mile away especially since she was wearing such a ridiculous outfit. She was wearing a bright red robe with a belt high above the waist and a big collar around her neck. She also wore a pair of glasses over that young face and bright brunette hair. Normal people who went by would think that she was just another wacky insane person like thousands others across the wasteland. 

He walked up to her when both Raul and Boone would’ve insisted him not to.

“Hello there young lady,” Sol waved at her as she turned around. She was somewhat petite up close.

“Oh hi there.” she said. She had this strange magical spark in her eyes that they could not put their fingers on it. It was a careless spark of joy and life. As if there wasn't a single worry in the world.

“So… I don’t want to sound rude or anything,” said Sol, “but you look strangely out of place. Here at least. I suspect that you have a story to tell.”

She smiled brilliantly:

“How right you are, my name is Veronica. I live in a hole underground.”

The three of them were speechless. Stood there, poker face and all. ED-E made a few beeping noises here and there while Veronica laughed:

“Ha, I’m just messing with ya. I’m actually just another traveler. Nothing much to it. I see the caravan folks here and there and I just go around helping out. In turns they pay me back.”

“Oh… yeah… that’s cool I guess…” Sol said, “My name’s Solmund, you can call me Sol. Here’s Mr. Grumpy, calls himself Boone. Raul’s the mechanic and that’s ED-E.”

“Aw aren’t you a cutie,” Veronica said while looking at ED-E. Sol could’ve sworn that ED-E was blushing through all his incomprehensible beeping.

“Nice to meet you.” Boone and Raul said.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Veronica smiled, “Anyway, can I asked you a question? I know this is a little bit out of the blue, but have any of you run into a group called the Brotherhood of Steel?”

Sol had a feeling something like this would happened. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, then said:

“Brotherhood? Them folks who go around scavenging for Old World tech? Didn’t they die off some time long ago? I mean, jeez, NCR’s army is as plentiful as an ant’s nest. And I don’t think they have enough battery for that.”

“Have you run across any?” Veronica asked.

“Nah, but I sure as hell know where they are.”

At this point, all three, Boone, Raul and Veronica raised their eyebrows.

“What?” Sol asked dumbly, “Don’t tell me that you don’t see it. Raul, Boone. We walked down Black Mountain the other day into a little abandoned test site remember? The place where it got that bloody sandstorm and bark scorpions the other night. Anybody with half a brain would pick up that those bunkers in those areas are not abandoned. I mean, seriously. A couple of bunkers with NO inhabitants or scavengers and a blasted sandstorm  _every single night?_  What a coincidence that was. And an even bigger coincidence is that there's a girl in a Brotherhood scribe robe asking about the Brotherhood.”

Raul and Boone stared at her. Her little joyous spark in her eyes suddenly died a little.

“Come on now…” Sol told her, “Do you think that I didn’t recognize it? If I have to guess then now’s the time when you’d probably give me one of those excuses of how you found it in a trash can once or one of your scavenging buddies found it while looking into a junkyard. Whatever the excuse are I have one word for that… Bullshit!”

Veronica finally came out clean:

“Fine… alright, alright… ‘ere’s the truth. I need you to take me to the Hidden Valley’s bunker.”


	17. The Better Part of Valor

“So you’re really a member of the Brotherhood of Steel?” Raul asked as they were walking.

“If by member, you mean a bunch of people trying to keep me as far away from Hidden Valley’s bunkers as possible, then yes. I’m an honorary member.”

All of them were walking south, maybe south west towards over where they came from the other day. A little beyond Black Mountain there was a little abandoned test site. A couple of bark scorpions lurked here and there. They weren’t too much trouble. Boone went ahead and scouted the area. There were four bunkers, all of which were hidden beneath a lump of sand.

“I’m a scribe,” Veronica said, “I was raised in the Brotherhood bunkers. Just like most of us actually. There is a strict code that only members raised from within our vaults and bunkers are allowed to join the Brotherhood. We’ve been upholding that tradition for a long time. I think that that strict law about our upbringing is one of the main reasons why we're in this predicament in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” Sol asked. Veronica looked over to Boone:

“You can ask your sniper friend over there.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, I assume you’re familiar with what happened at HELIOS One.” Boone squinted his eyes at her before he said:

“With all due respect ma’am, not all NCR troopers were at the events that happened at that blasted power plant. We all had places to be and things to do.”

Veronica wasn’t mad at Boone though, she started to smile:

“I don’t blame you… but anyway, it all happened a couple of years back. Our old elder – Elder Elijah – found this place and ordered many of our best and most fearsome paladins to seize the power plant. Elder Elijah… where do I even begin? He was a technological genius, he saw things that no one on earth could see. He was the kind of guy that had our paladins bring in scrap parts and rusted robots from the junk yard and started to build a functional power armor or a laser rifle out of nothing but the bare essentials.”

“Clever fellow huh?” Raul said, with a little sarcastic undertone.

“Yup,” said Veronica, “Elder Elijah was an odd fellow. He was a little different from the norm. From his position in power to the way he operates. He defied convention and rose to the ranks of Elder despite it being a rank reserved for Paladins and Knights. People started questioning him once he started to go crazy over the power plant, HELIOS One. He acted like a child in a candy store. Said himself that the place had incredible potential. Nobody understood what, though.”

“Then what happened?” Sol asked.

“Well, I think you and your sniper friend knows what happened. You’re a ranger, are you not?”

“Not officially, no. I quit a long time ago.”

“Well, anyway,” she continued, “The NCR came like they always do, and took the place. Elder Elijah tried to hold the place for as long as he could, despite superior technology and armors, what the NCR had but the Brotherhood didn’t were training and experience. A lot of Paladins died under rangers’ hands that day. They came like a shadow… and here we are, a group of Old World worshiping, power armor wearing people hiding underground.”

ED-E started to make a lot of high pitch beeping noises.

“You said it buddy,” Sol told him, “If they don’t do something about it they’d be doomed.”

“Wait,” said Veronica, confused, “you can understand that thing?”

“Yeah, and what… you can’t?”

Raul, Boone and Veronica just stared at him in awe. Solmund never realized it until now.

“Oh my god, and you guys actually  _LET_  me talk to him all this time? Out loud? Why didn’t you guys say anything? I looked like a complete idiot talking to myself, jeez.”

Raul started to snicker gleefully.

 

 

 

 

“So… here we are… this is it.”

They arrived at one of the bunkers, it was located somewhere in the center of the test site. It was a rusty metal door and they all went inside. The interior was a large complex of metal stairs that led downstairs into an underground area where they ran into another metal door. But this time, with an intercom on the side.

“Wow, you sure this is the place?” asked Raul.

“Of course, I grew up here, silly man.” She said, “now all I have to do is greet the security guard, give them my password and…”

Just right before Veronica could reach the intercom a loud siren noise suddenly exploded throughout the entire facility. All of them started to cover their ears but to no avail. The noise was piercing through their skull. The metal door before them suddenly opened up. At this point. Solmund knew that all hell was about to break lose.

There were ten of them, Sol counted in his head. Big Brotherhood Paladins wearing power armor model T-51b. It looked like it weighed about 60 tons. Each footstep was a loud thud to the concrete floor. All of the Paladins are armed with laser rifles, fully charged. There they were. Look at them. Their armor, their helmet shone like glorious steel. Their eyes, deadly. The Paladins started to spread out, five of them surrounded them on the left, the rest hemmed in from the right.

And last but not least, came through the door the last two Paladins, these two didn’t have a helmet on them. One of them was a well-built man, he had rough features on his face. He was nearly bald and had eyes that are sharper than an eagle. The other man was a man with messy hair and a goatee, he seemed somewhat dark and moody.

“EVERYBODY HANDS IN THE AIR!” the bald man shouted, “I don’t want to have to repeat myself, do it NOW!”

The ten Paladins started pointing their rifles at them. Sol was trying to think of something, but none of it seemed wise. So in the end they had no choice but to put their hands over their heads. The man with the messy hair suddenly shifted his attention over to Veronica.

“Hi Ramos.” Veronica said, trying to be cheerful.

“Veronica! What are you doing here?”

“What? Is there a problem? Am I not welcomed here anymore?”

The man called Ramos looked around the room before he grabbed Veronica over to a corner where they could talk.

“Veronica,” he said, “you’re not supposed to be here. Your mission…”

“I know what my mission is, thank you very much,” her tone suddenly shifted, “and did you not think that I wouldn’t notice you trying to get me to do a mission that is for one; over three years old and two; could be done by any Knight in the Brotherhood?”

“Veronica,” Ramos sighed, “you know… you know that Elder McNamara needs time to think of a plan. He’s under a lot of pressure… and the last thing he needs Elijah’s little cupcake going around and making a fuss of things…”

While the two of them were speaking in the back room, the bald man approached the rest of the crew.

“Good morning…” Raul said, “Lovely day isn’t it.”

“Put a sock into it,” the bald man said, “before I have my boys fire on your ass.” That made Raul swallowed a mouthful of fear.

“What should we do with them, Edgar?” One of the Paladins with the laser rifle asked.

“Well,” answered Edgar, “you need not worry my friends. We should just stick to normal protocols, nothing to worry about.” Edgar turned his head to one of the Paladins, “Search them.”

One of the Paladins slowly hung his rifle to the side and started to approach each one of them, he was patting them on their shoulders, their thighs and was looking through their clothes and jackets. He took away any weapons he found. Sol then looked over to the man called Edgar, he stared at the Paladin with a calm look which somewhat confused the Paladin. Edgar squinted his eyes as if he found something suspicious in Sol.

The Paladin then started to search Sol. He took from his duster, the Ranger Sequoia, a cigarette package, a lighter, a syringe, a bottle of Cateye, a case of Mentats, a bottle of Buffout and a syringe of Psycho. The Paladin struck him with a strange look.

“A man's gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” Sol smiled. 

The Paladin kept on searching, he pulled out a handful of .45-70 Gov’t bullets, a few .50 MG and .308 rounds which was odd since Sol didn’t carry around any rifles. He kept on digging through the duster to find more chems and also a journal which had a lock on it. The Paladin threw it all onto a pile on the ground. And a few minutes later, just as the Paladin was about to finish pulling out the last of the items in his duster, something inside caught his eyes. It was a tattered piece of paper. He pulled it out and unraveled it to look inside. At this point Sol couldn’t help but smile and then whispered into his ear:

“Live to fight another day… and to dare to do it… for the better part of valor…”

“Hardin!” the Paladin shouted at Edgar. Handing the paper to him. Edgar skimmed through the papers, looked up with a gaze full of rage, staring at him in disbelief.

“Where did you get this?” Edgar snapped, “Where the fuck did you get this?”

“I don’t know,” Sol shrugged, “It’s around here somewhere, hard to tell when they’re all dead.”

This time Edgar couldn’t hold in the rage. He shouted:

“That’s it! I want them thrown behind bars! ON YOUR KNEES!”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Boone yelled at Sol.

“Smooth move, boss.”

But throughout all of this madness. Solmund did not care. His grin stretched across his cheeks.


	18. Icarus's Fall

**_5 years ago, HELIOS One – Operation: Sunburst…_ **

“Hey, Jake…” the young NCR trooper called, “Jake, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here James…”

“Pass me the bottle will ya.”

Jake handed over the water bottle. James took a little sip then wiped his mouth. The two of them were standing watch under a little trench. Off that position about a few miles was the solar power plant called HELIOS One. The general called this operation code name Sunburst. The solar plant was currently under the possession of the Brotherhood of Steel. A small chapter it seemed. Not too many of them. The general said to wait until dawn when the ranger troops come along, only then would they have enough firepower.

James took another sip, wiped his mouth then sighed:

“Brotherhood of Steel… never thought the day would come when I’d be going up against one of those crazy power armor wearing son of a bitch.”

“None of us thought of that day.” Jake said, grabbing the bottle and taking a sip himself.

“Do you think we can make it? Make it out of here alive I mean.”

“You kidding?” Jake said, “When the rangers come, the Brotherhood are the ones who should be worried. “

“I don’t know about that, those guys seem awfully strong.”

“Yeah… but still…”

Suddenly out from the corner, the general emerged, bellowing:

“HSU! ERWIN!”

That shout woke both of them up, pulling themselves onto their feet and saluting the grumpy general before them.

“General, sir!”

“At ease!”

James and Jake sighed in relief.

“Hsu,” said the general, “I want you on patrol over the east post after midnight, one of the boys over there had some stomach problems, you’re going to need to fill in.”

“Yes sir!” He answered firmly.

“And Erwin.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t cause any trouble, alright? That is all.”

The general left, James and Jake sat back and relaxed. It was as if they just experienced a lightning bolt striking at their hearts. The two of them panted heavily.

“That was intense.” Jake commented.

“Yeah, well what are you going to do about it?” James said smiling.

“You know what would be even more intense?”

“What?”

Jake looked about, as if seeing if anybody was watching them. Jake went over and sat closer to James so that he could whisper to him:

“If The Red Eye shows up.”

James sat there for a moment, not knowing how to respond to this. He stared at Jake blankly for a long minute.

“Wait,” Jake shook his head, “don’t tell me you don’t know the urban legend about The Red Eye.”

“What on earth are you talking about? What urban legend?”

Jake sighed, disappointed:

“I guess I’ll just have to tell you, okay, listen up. There is a legend amongst all travelers of the Mojave Desert. There is a man, who walks the sand and earth of this land, nobody knows who he is, but legend says that this man dresses exactly like one of our rangers.”

James was blinking in disbelief, Jake continued:

“He wears a duster and a helmet – just like our ranger boys – but with red glowing eyes. And the urban legend is that if you see these glowing red eyes in the distance. Then you better pray that you are not the one he is after because if you are then you’re as good as dead.”

James kept on staring at him, not knowing what to make of it.

“And it gets better,” Jake said, “The man is practically a one man army. Once, there was a Legion camp down south to the far East somewhere, along the Colorado River. That camp has got arms and weapons that we normal troopers could only dream about. Anti-Material Rifles, Brush guns, Gatling gun and even Plasma Caster. They say that that camp, just over one night, was burnt to the ground, the Legion didn’t even manage to set foot into Nevada. Nothing was left alive. Witnesses said that it was just one man. And the best part was… that witnesses say that… the man only uses a single revolver.”

The two of them sat there staring at each other for an awkward silence that lasted for nearly a few minutes before James finally said:

“You’re crazy!”

“What?” 

“You expect me to believe this crap?” James said, “Jeez, man, what do you take me for, an idiot?”

“Hey, I swear to god, I’m not making this up, it’s a real urban legend. You go and ask around, or better yet go ask the general, he’ll confirm it.”

“Real or not, I’m not buying it.”

“Yeah,” Jake admitted, “I won’t force you to… hey… do you hear that?”

James and Jake strained their ears very hard to hear what was happening. Suddenly from afar, they heard it – gun fire. The two of them quickly grabbed their service rifle and jumped out of the trench. All of the camp was up and running at this point. It was strange, all NCR troops were present at the camp, and yet they could still hear loud gunfire from afar. It came from the direction of the solar plant. What was even stranger was that Brotherhood Paladins would usually use laser or plasma rifles. And yet they heard sound of normal bullets and guns.

By the time the NCR troops got to the solar plant, all of them stared in horror. Brotherhood Paladin bodies stacked like mountains of flesh. Blood oozing from the metal power armor. There were few surviving Brotherhood members which could be seen retreating onto the hills from afar. At the center of all the bodies – one man. Red glowing eyes…

Truth was – Solmund had hated the Brotherhood of Steel from the very beginning…


	19. Still in the Dark

“So that’s your story, huh boss?"

“Yeah, just… err… don’t let Veronica know about that, alright?”

“Why?” Boone asked.

“Because as far as I’m concerned, I did the Brotherhood a favor that night,” Solmund said, “I might be this so called one man army, but the NCR is much bigger.  The Brotherhood would’ve died off if they stayed there at that blasted power plant.”

“I don’t think that that’s why you did it,” Boone said, “c’mon, don’t lie. I know that the reason is much more than you doing the Brotherhood this ‘favor’. Because as far as  _I am concerned_  – you’re a goddamn sadist.”

“I am not!” Sol said. Seemingly a bit ticked off, “Look who’s talking here. You’re a goddamn sniper, you have no problem killing people.”

“The job description of a sniper is to save people, not kill.”

“Yeah right,” Sol said sarcastically, “because that night, under the green dinosaur, I bet my ass that if I brought Manny Vargas along with me you would’ve killed him instead of Jeannie May. And you’d have done it in an instant.”

Boone became quiet after that, not because he had a sense of respect or fear for Solmund, no. It was more that he had a sense of pride. Clearly he still had things he wanted to get off his chest. But as of that moment, all he did was glare at Sol. Solmund exchanged the glare. It was a fire that no water or sand could ever hope to be able to extinguish. Only when the two fires collide…

The three of them were put inside a small room with metal walls surrounding them. There was a one big metal door with a small glass square on top. The room was empty so the three of them had to sit on the ground. The Paladins had taken all of their belongings, but what was even worse was the fact that they took ED-E away to a separate location. Damn it, Sol thought. Goddamn typical Brotherhood of Steel, all they care about is Old World technology, ED-E was a gold mine for them. There was no telling what they would do to ED-E. But that was not really a question of whether they would turn ED-E into scrap metal or not. It was really a matter of _when_ will they turn ED-E into scrap metal. Damn, we need to get out of here, and fast.

Wait, Solmund thought to himself, that’s it! He took out from his glove a small device, it looked like a mechanical piece of some sort, and on his left boot he pulled out a small screwdriver. Luckily the Paladins did not search his pockets all the way.

“A screwdriver!” Raul exclaimed, “Good job, boss, now we can get the hell outta here. What are you waiting for?”

“No, too dangerous!” Sol said firmly which made Raul confused.

Solmund approached one of the metal walls and started tapping on them. Boone and Raul did not have a single clue on what he was doing. Sol tapped on the walls for a few moments before stopping at a piece of square metal plate inserted into the wall.

“Eureka,” he whispered under his breath, “This room… obviously the Brotherhood did not anticipate our little uninvited arrival. This is a storage room of some kind. Probably weapons or power armor. Those are the kinds of equipment that needs constant care and repairs, and also a specific environment and temperature for storage. And where there’s a room like that…”

He used his screwdriver and dug straight into the metal square which made a loud sharp sound. He used the leverage to pry open the metal sheet. Inside, there was a circuit board filled to the brim with complex machinery and electrical wirings.

“… there’s ought to be an air conditioning system or a conservation system of some sort…”

 

 

 

 

“Veronica, we don’t have time for this!”

“What?” Veronica snapped, “Too busy keeping us locked down here?”

Ramos and Edgar took Veronica to see the elder, Elder McNamara. He was a tall scrawny man with aging white hair. His facial features spoke of something that normal people would not be able to pick up. They were screaming, screaming something. Like a piece of soul trying escape through those pair of dull eyes.

“Veronica, please,” McNamara said, “for the last time we are not going to leave the bunker. The protocols are there for a reason. I’ve explained this many times before.”

“The protocols are going to be your end. They are going to be OUR end.”

“I’ve told you, we, the Brotherhood of Steel are not ready to open up relations with the surface worlds. I have not seen any proof that the world above us will accept us as a community.”

“But I have,” Veronica affirmed, “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. After all that was the job you and Ramos gave me in the first place wasn’t it? To scout the world above…”

“The job,” he said, “was to scout the world above for any immediate danger or threat, like giant monsters or raiders. The job wasn’t to look into long term danger. It is merely so that you can report back to our reconnaissance troops so they can file a report and map out a logical route for our Paladins whenever the need arises to resurface for supplies.”

“And do you see how much trouble that is causing now?” she asked, “Everyday, you send troops up there through all of this ridiculous routine and protocols which will only hinder the Brotherhood as a whole. In case you forget we are not the most populace of the tribes in the Mojave, what happens when one of our scout troops dies out in the wasteland? How long would it take to send back up?”

“That is the exactly reason why I am being so cautious about this. Because our numbers are dwindling so I can’t risk another Paladin's life when I send them out there, you…”

“That’s no reason to cut ourselves off from the upper world,” Veronica cut him off, “It’s that exact reason why we NEED to open up relation to the outside world.”

McNamara glared at her, almost menacingly:

“That outside world is what brought in those intruders in the first place.”

“For crying out loud, they’re not intruders. I asked them to come here because I believe they can help.”

“Do you honestly think that those people are here to help?” He asked, “I don’t know those people. Sure they might be mere scavengers, but worst case scenario is that they’re from NCR, and they’re here to spy on us, and that is a chance I'm not going to take. Don’t take me for a fool Veronica, I know a ranger when I see one.”

“They’re not NCR, sir,” said Veronica, “well only one of them but…”

“I knew it.” 

“He’s got nothing to do any of the operation dedicated in wiping us out.” Assured Veronica, “He’s a retired sniper from a town nearby, the one in the beret.”

“What of the ranger?”

“He’s not a ranger,” said Veronica, trying her best to convince him, “He merely wears a duster similar to them. Lots of people out in the wasteland wear a duster.”

“It does not matter, I do not trust them.”

“Well if you would… just listen to them… give them a chance I believe…”

“ELDER MCNAMARA!” A shout from the corridor, suddenly cutting off the conversation.

Ramos rushed through the metal door, in full body power armor. Each step heavier than the last but he did not mind. He was panting. Clearly there was something wrong.

“What’s the matter, Ramos?” asked the elder.

“Emergency,” he blurted out while panting, “code red… we’re under attack.”

“By whom?”

“Not by a person, no… Deathclaws…”

 

 

 

 

“Did you hear that?” Boone said, placing his ears against the metal door, “One of the Paladins shouted something about an attack or something.”

“Great,” Raul said, “I escaped a crazy blue face mutant’s prison just so I can get myself into another prison and now we’re under attack? Fantastic.”

“You guys worry too much…”

Sol fiddled with the screwdriver as he tried to fix a funny looking mechanical box. There was an antenna on the side and also a keypad in the middle. Sol was ripping out the computer parts from the system behind the walls. Raul never realized how advanced these Brotherhood chapters were. Either way, Sol grinned at his creation. He wasn’t worried one bit…


	20. Claws Out

“Status report.”

“I’m having Stanton and Watkins out there scouting the situation. They’re setting up some cameras right now. But it doesn’t look good, here, come and see for yourself.”

The Paladin pointed to one of the screens on the machine they were standing before. There were eight cameras in total. Although one camera wasn’t operational when the Deathclaw reports came in. Another two were destroyed by the Deathclaws themselves just mere moments later. 

“How many?” asked Veronica.

“Don’t know,” Ramos said, “enough to fill up a large cave, nearly a hundred at least.”

“By the gods,” McNamara gasped.

“It’s strange, though,” said Ramos, “these Deathclaws seem a lot more… how do I say this… organized than most. It was as if somebody set this up on purpose. Do you think that these monsters came from the Quarry up North?”

“Does it matter?” Veronica said, “They’re here now.”

“Alright,” the Elder decided, “tell Stanton and Watkins to come back into the bunker. We need to fortify this place. I’m issuing orders for Operation 13.8 – codename: Fire Cavern.”

“What?”

“We could lure these Deathclaws in one of the abandoned bunker and detonate the self-destruct sequence there. They’ll never see it coming,” he explained.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

McNamara sighed:

“What other choices do we have?”

 

 

 

 

“Hurry up, boss,” Raul nagged, “are we getting out of here or what?”

“We will,” he assured, “we just need to find ED-E first. This won’t work without him. Boone! How many Paladins are out there?”

“Just the two standing guard,” Boone reported while looking through the glass square on the door.

“Perfect,” said Sol, “Now, charge forward when I give the signal, those two Paladins are not waking up unless I say so. Got it?”

Boone and Raul nodded. Sol took the screwdriver and fiddled with the metal door. It was more mechanical than regular doors. Those Paladins thought the three of them only knew how to break out of normal locks on the account that they seemed to be just a couple of ordinary folks. But little did they know, Solmund was there and he was anything but ordinary. A few short moments later, Sol twisted the screwdriver and there was a loud snap. Luckily the two Paladins didn’t seem to notice. Sol took a moment to sigh in relief before waving his hands at Raul and Boone.

“NOW!”

Immediately, all three of them smashed their shoulders against the big metal door. It was loose, the hinges on the door started to fall out of its sockets. All three of them pushed with their max efforts and before long the door was off the frame and slammed straight onto the two Paladins standing guard, there was a brief muffled voice beneath the metal door and piles of power armor before it became silent.

“Well then,” Raul said, patting dust off of his palms, “Ooh, would ya look at that shiny thing on that exit door.”

“For fuck’s sake Raul,” Sol said pulling him back, “c’mon, we gotta find ED-E.”

They walked quickly down the metal hallway, there were a few iron pipes on the walls which were making queer howling noises. It was strangely empty, though. Perhaps they were too busy with defending against the attack. This could be the perfect opportunity for them to search the place. God knows how long them Paladins will be going at it. 

“Do you know where they kept the eyebot?” Boone asked.

“No,” Sol replied, “But I wouldn’t worry. We’d be long gone before those Paladins even realize we were missing.”

They made a turn to another hallway. This one got two metal doors at the end. One unnamed while the other was marked as the storage room. This could be it. They entered into a large room filled with as many toys as they could ever dream of. Big power armor both model T-51b and model T-45d all in the perfect condition. And at the far table was the eyebot – deactivated.

“ED-E!” Sol exclaimed, “Thank god we’ve found you.”

Sol went over and opened up the inside of the eyebot. Thank the heavens those Paladins had not touch anything yet. Sol typed in the codes to launch the program and ED-E was back on his feet again. Well… not feet, but was floating again.

“Oh you poor thing,” Sol said to ED-E, “what have those bad men done to you?”

ED-E exclaimed through a series of beeping noises.

“Well don’t you worry one bit, ED-E. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sol pulled from his duster the little mechanical block that he was building while they were imprisoned in the other room. He took out his screwdriver and dug through ED-E mainframe. He went inside and looked inside for a minute or two before he settled for a little slot on the side. He installed the hardware and activated it.

“Gee, boss, you’ve spent an awful lot of time building that thing. I hope it’s all worth it.”

“It will!” Sol affirmed, “Do you know what the locals around Black Mountain do for food and supplies? Do you know what they eat?”

Raul and Boone looked at each other confused, but before they could ask Sol what he was talking about he launched the program from the machine he installed inside ED-E. There was a few sharp siren sounds before the machine settled in.

“NEIL!” He shouted, “Neil… come in Neil… about that favor you promised me…”

 

 

 

 

“Alright, everybody in position,” Ramos ordered the bunker through his intercom, “we only have one shot at this, I don’t want any screw up around here, alright!”

Veronica and McNamara stood behind monitoring the screens. The Deathclaws were still out there. Ramos was fiddling with the control system on the side. He then activated the codes to open up all of the other three bunkers’ doors. It made a loud hefty metal noise that sounded throughout the whole test site. Which was bound to have caught the Deathclaws’ attention – and it did.

The Deathclaws were quick on their feet. They split up into three groups and left for each bunker. Ramos had one camera in each bunker. He waited for them to completely fill up the inside. There were so many of them. Including at least three Alphas and five Mother Deathclaws and a lot of their babies. Every bunker in Hidden Valley was armed with a self-destruction sequence in case of an emergency. All self-destruction sequence required the keycards from all three Head Scribe, Head Paladin and Elder in order for it to activate. But since the other three bunkers were abandoned, it wasn’t necessary for all three keycards, they just needed authorization from the Elder.

It took a few more minutes before all three bunkers were filled to the brim with Deathclaws. Ramos pressed the buttons to close all front doors of the bunkers preventing escape. Now they just need to wait for McNamara’s orders.

“Everything is in position, Elder,” Ramos said, “Please insert your keycard…”

But McNamara didn’t hesitated, he grabbed his card and inserted it into a small slot on the side of the terminal. It took a second to scan then on the terminal screen was the confirmation for detonation. The elder closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that he won’t be able to go back after this. And with that final thought, he pressed the button, confirming. 

It all happened in a flash. The camera screens in all three bunkers were destroyed in an instant, but they didn’t need it to know what happened. They could feel the shockwave through the metal walls around them. It was deafening. It tore a hole through their ears. They couldn’t hear a thing for a good long minute. Even the lights on the ceiling started to fade away uneasily.

“STATUS!” Ramos called to the intercom with one hand on his ear.

The Paladin on the other end spoke:

“All system – operational. Water system – functional. Air conditioning system – functional. Computer system – up to date.”

“Phew…”

Veronica and McNamara were on their feet again. They walked near the control panel as Ramos continued on checking with the system operation to see if any damage was made. 

But to their horrors, one camera survived the shockwave…

“No…” the all gasped, “not possible…”

From the dust and rubble beneath what used to be the Hidden Valley’s bunkers, the Deathclaws pushed their way through the big boulders that collapsed right on top of them. Dust flew everywhere, it was like a sandstorm. Even the bark scorpions on the surface were killed by the shockwave alone. Only a few survived and scattered along the sand. But the Deathclaws… they growled angrily, as if it the whole explosion was just a little scratch.

“It’s over…” Veronica said.

McNamara couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Because his ideas had already ran dry. If the explosion of this magnitude couldn’t bring these Deathclaws back to the hell where they came from. Then what on earth could?

From behind the doors, came Edgar. He was suited in full body power armor.

“Elder McNamara,” he called, “the explosion… we felt the earth shaking from below… did…”

But before he could even ask, Ramos shook his head in a depressing manner. Edgar got the message. But his facial expression was not fazed by this. In fact, it was as if he had predicted something like this would happen. 

“Elder, please,” Edgar said, “please, allow me and my Paladins to take our arms and weapons to the surface, we might be able to hold them off long enough for an evacuation.”

“No,” the elder protested, “it’s too dangerous.”

“With all due respect, sir, we don’t have a choice." 

“It’s suicide,” said McNamara, “did you see what those Deathclaws are capable of? They’ll tear you apart the moment you step foot outside this bunker. They’ll swallow you whole, power armor and all.”

“Yes, I know that,” Edgar admitted, “but you… you can survive. All of you. The Knights, the Scribes. Just go. We Paladins will protect this chapter, no matter the cost.”

Ramos saw a spark in Edgar’s eyes. A spark that he had not seen since the events of HELIOS One. For so long, Edgar had been mourning over the lost this chapter had suffered. So many of their brothers and sisters died. Their deaths saddened Edgar. And now… he was doing his best so that Death won’t come to this chapter again.

Suddenly…

“ _Evacuation won’t be necessary gentlemen._ ” 

Edgar turned around immediately, pointing his laser rifle at the door. Solmund was standing at the door. Along with Boone, Raul and ED-E. Sol nodded at Veronica, acknowledging her.

“ _You!_ ” Edgar said, “What are you doing here? Why are you not locked up?”

“The rifle won’t be necessary, Edgar.” Sol said staring at him.

Suddenly, from the corner of Sol’s eyes came a small red spark that struck at Edgar. He dropped his rifle on the floor, suddenly realizing:

“NO… YOU… NOT YOU…”


	21. Ad Victoriam

“Sir… Elder McNamara,” begged Edgar, “I’m telling you, this man cannot be trusted. _HE_  is responsible for this mess in the first place.”

“What are you talking about?” McNamara asked, confused.

“Sir, can’t you see?” yelled Edgar, “HE IS ONE THEY CALL THE RED EYE. He was the one who killed our Paladins that night, years ago, at HELIOS One. He was the one who slaughtered all of our brothers and sisters. HE is the urban legend. I know for a fact that it’s him. I was there when he butchered our comrades. He had this red spark in his eyes that I could spot from a mile away. There’s no mistaking it. He’s a very dangerous man and he cannot be trusted!”

“Now that was really not necessary.” Said Sol, smiling, “c’mon, look at me. I’m a sixty year old man, I couldn’t possibly do any of those things you said.”

“Wait,” Veronica joined in, “You’re sixty years old?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well,” Veronica hesitated, “it's just that… you don’t look a day older than thirty years.”

“Why? What did you have in mind?” Sol winked at her playfully. Which confused her, it took a few seconds before she realized what he meant.

“First off,” she said, “no offense but I swing with girls – I know, hard to believe, men just don’t interest me as much. Second of all, now that I know that you’re this wrinkly old man…”

“But didn’t you say that I wasn’t a day older…”

“I know what I said alright!”

“C’mon, Veronica,” Raul snuck up from behind the door, “just look at this guy, he has a face of a god.”

“Damn it, Raul,” she snapped, “now’s not the time.”

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Raul backed down, “ya know, there’s another monstrously handsome man who’s older than a hundred years old if you’re interested.” Raul pointed at his ' _beautiful_ ' face.

“ _EVERYBODY JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ ”

Elder McNamara shouted across the room, and it really did the job. Everybody quit their chattering in an instant. He looked around the room to each person, then took a moment to sigh before directing his attention back to Solmund, the old bastard was still smiling.

McNamara said:

“Give me one good reason why I should trust someone like you. If what Hardin said is true then… you are an enemy to the Brotherhood.”

Veronica looked at Sol, waiting. And this time, her gaze wasn’t a gaze of joy or playfulness. She actually seemed serious. As if she was actually listening to the conversation for the first time ever. She heard it, alright. He never denied it, the girl asked herself whether it meant he was confirming Hardin’s speculation as facts. She looked at him, waiting for an answer.

But Sol was still calm, he cracked his knuckles, glancing at the elder, he said:

“You and your little Hidden Valley are being overrun by a flock of indestructible monsters. But I here have a solution to your problem. I don’t think that you – Elder McNamara – have a choice.”

McNamara looked at him, as if admitting that he was right. Sol explained:

“I have your solution right here, waiting up there for you to execute it – Nightkins. That’s right. These are the local folks who have been living on Black Mountain for God knows how long. Meaning they have had a steady supply of guns, ammunition, water and most importantly – food. Now there's also a lot of Centaurs that live on Black Mountain, but the Nightkins don’t eat them, they keep them as pets. Which begs the question, what do they really eat? The answer is simple – Deathclaws. Nightkins are not only skilled hunters, but they are adept in the art of stealth as well. They have the strength of a mountain and the agility of a Cazador. Which makes them the perfect stealth troops. Now, here’s the good part, a couple of days ago, WE helped the Nightkin population on Black Mountain with a serious ‘political’ matter. Which in turns gained their trusts, which coincidentally also gained the trusts of the Super Mutant population as well. Now, I’ve made contacts with them using a homemade radio I've built during my time in your little prison, I’ve installed the radio inside my buddy ED-E. And I have to say that we have good news, help-is-on-the-way.”

Ramos, Edgar and McNamara had their jaws dropped onto the floor as if it weighed a hundred tons. Edgar whispered to McNamara, telling him to be rational since there was no way any of this could be true. It had to be bull crap. But Sol begged to differ, he continued explaining:

“Now I know this all sounds crazy but please consider the fact here. And the fact here is that what your friend Edgar said is true. I AM the Red Eye. And the only reason why this Brotherhood chapter is still alive is because I don’t want it dead. I have no need for it dead. Besides… a good friend of mine would definitely not want you to die.” He looked briefly over to Veronica, and then continued explaining, “Now, I already have the means to fight these Deathclaws off but what I don’t have is the fire power. That’s where you come in. Tell me… how far are you willing to go if it means to save this chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel? How far?”

McNamara glared around the room, looking at everyone. Veronica… she didn’t say a word, but he saw something in her. Was she telling him to go along with it? No… she seemed… distressed, as if still trying to comprehend all this. She looked at Sol, she’d never realized, right under her nose, the man who killed many of her brothers and sisters. And yet, she seemed ready, fiddling with her fist. Am I ready? McNamara thought to himself. But looking around now, despite being one of the most powerful tribe in the Mojave, with the most devastating firepower in the whole wasteland, the Elder felt completely helpless. 

 

 

 

 

It was noon, the test site was still overrun with giant Deathclaws. They were ugly beasts, like big brown chameleons, with claws the size of long metal pole, hence the name. They stood nearly over three meters tall, and their eyes, filled with death. There was still a large amount of them running around, the bunker self-destruct explosion seemed to only hurt a few baby Deathclaws. All the others were bouncing around like they were at a party.

But the party was ending…

“NOW!”

There were gunshots, it was the sound of hundreds of light machine guns firing, raining bullets down onto this barren field of monsters. With the barrage of lead swarming the outside rear of the test site. It caught the beasts by surprise. But when they looked around they could see nothing. Nothing but endless deafening noise of the gunpowder and shells. They growled to the sky, but it was useless as they found countless frag grenades suddenly lying at their feet, exploding with a force that could rival a small nuclear bomb. They roared in the fire that consumed them. 

The fire of hell began to break loose. 

From the sides were gigantic big hulking beasts with blue and green skin rushing down the hills of the test site. In their hands, they wielded giant sledgehammers and swords that were ripped straight out of countless bumpers from countless cars. They were big hulking brutes that had the strength to move mountains. The sunlight and the heat beat down the sand just like the sledgehammer beat down the skulls of these Deathclaws. But it didn’t stop there.

Out from the bunker were lines after lines of bulky soldiers in massive metal power armor. They breathed heavily behind their masks, looked up to the sun and prayed for its blessings and started firing their rifles. 

There weren’t as many Paladins to outnumber the Deathclaws, but that didn't matter because there they were, both the Knights and the Scribes came rushing out of the bunker, wielding their laser, plasma rifles and pistols, kept on firing at the beasts. Despite them knowing full well that these weapons had little effects on the monsters. But what the Knights and Scribes lacked in firepower, they made up for their tenacity and determination. From the side the Nightkins continued to fire their light machine guns, and from the bunker, the Paladins unleashed their fury with their very own Gatling laser furiously cutting through the Deathclaws’ lines of defenses. 

But the Deathclaws did not just sit there and watched, they retaliated as well, a mother Deathclaw leaped forward and took a swipe at the Paladins, three suit of power armor was tore into shreds after that strike. The Paladins fought back, firing their laser rifles, along with the Super Mutants and the Nightkins aiding them in close quarter combat. However, this was not the last of the Brotherhood’s weapons in the bunker. 

Out from behind were the commanders, the leaders. Edgar and Ramos, in full body power armor, joined the fight with their own rifles eating away at the monsters. Even the Elder himself brought out the Brotherhood’s most powerful weapon – the Gauss Rifle. McNamara pulled the trigger once, and it fired a bolt of plasma that destroyed a whole area of Deathclaws, vaporizing their skins and bones. It crippled their forces a great deal. Elder McNamara knew that moment, that this, this was for the Brotherhood.

By his side, Veronica, blood lusted, wielding a gigantic power fist on her right arm. It looked clunky and awkward at first, that was – until she started to swing, with one single punch she managed to dislocate a Deathclaw’s jaw. She was bathing in blood, getting stains all over her glasses. But she never stopped swinging. Punch after punch, it was the strength of metal, it was the strength of a girl willing to fight for her home, it was the strength of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Boone, Raul and ED-E also rushed out of the bunker’s door. Boone wielding his rifle, Raul loading his revolver, and ED-E arming his laser gun unloading rapidly at the Deathclaws, drawing in attention to themselves. The Deathclaws’ eyes sparked with hunger and rage. But these men, what they had that these animals didn’t was willpower.

It took many hours, but they were finally able to cut the Deathclaws’ numbers in half. There was not many of them left. There were only two mother Deathclaw and one Alpha left. The number of Paladins, Knights and Scribes were also reduced to a significant amount. But there were still many left standing, and the Mutants hadn’t given up yet, so there was no reason for them to give up as well. Besides, the monsters had their Alphas, it was time for the Brotherhood to show them their own Alpha. 

With heavy boots, Solmund stood out of the metal door of the bunker. He walked over to where the remaining Deathclaws were. The Paladins and the Mutants were surrounding them, with the remaining mother and Alpha Deathclaws in the center. The monsters suddenly stopped, and so did the Paladins and the Mutants – for they'd sensed something flowing in the air. It was tense. They looked behind and they just couldn't believe what they'd seen – a single red spark. The one remaining Alpha had certainly noticed the old man. Determined to prove who the real Alpha was.

Sol took out a cigarette and lit it up as the Alpha approached him. The Paladins and the Mutants automatically made way for the beast to go through. Raul, Boone and Veronica watched, they had never felt anything like this before. It was as if the entire planet was about to burst due to the tension. They could still see the red flash in Sol’s eyes. It was as clear as day. Those eyes, they glared straight up the empty eyes of the monster.

Sol pulled out his Ranger Sequoia, and to everyone’s surprise. He emptied the cylinder, loading the gun with a single bullet, he spun the cylinder around and then locked it in place. The Alpha was now only a few inches away from Solmund. It stood towering over him, Sol felt its shadow overwhelming him. All eyes were on them, including the eyes of the other monsters around. The Alpha was breathing heavily down Sol’s neck. It glared at him in a challenging way, intended to prove his power over him. But Sol was calm, he didn’t even engage in combat position. His body was relaxed, as if he wasn't even here to participate in the battle. And that was what made him so dangerous, even more dangerous these sharp claws of the beast. The beast roared at the heaven, a devastating growl that split the clouds in half. It took a swing of its claws at Sol…

But before the claws could even reach a single hair on his head. Faster than a human eye could see – the Sequoia was aimed at the monster’s face. The cowboy ranger smirked, whispering into the beast’s ears:

“Check – mate…”

The shot that fired from the Sequoia was deafening. It tore the heavens into pieces, the clouds were shattered, scattering to all directions until they were nowhere to be seen. The sand and rocks around them ruptured, detonated as if it was a grenade. The bullet that pierced the monster’s skull... exploded. The shockwave was even more powerful than the Brotherhood’s self-destruct sequences. Everyone was quiet for a good long minute before the lifeless body of the beast dropped like a hammer. After that, all anyone could remember was that the Deathclaws were scattering, and that this Brotherhood chapter was saved. 

 

 

 

 

“Thanks a lot Neil,” Solmund said, “for coming so quickly. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Neil – this massive Super Mutant – stood there, towering over them, seemingly like a monster. And yet at the same time he was also calm and gentle. He was a Super Mutant they met near Black Mountain, he warned them of Tabitha’s fury and dominion over the area. And boy was he grateful after Sol and his team took care of the situation.

The Mutant said:

“Anything for a friend… and a good man,” Sol smiled gratefully. 

Neil and his Mutant troops stayed awhile longer to help clean up the area, there was a lot to do. Lots of bodies needed to be disposed of, and even more bodies that needed proper burials. They were brave men and women who fought for the survival of their own tribe. They shall be remembered. Although, many mourned the loss of life of their chapters, many more also celebrated their victory of that day. 

While Sol helped Boone and Raul tend to the injuries, Sol saw Veronica standing from afar. He knew that this would come eventually. The confrontation. He walked slowly over to her. There was the beating of his heart, the anxiety he rarely felt, but felt regardless. Veronica looked at him, blankly.

They stood there, awkwardly… for about a minute or so, before the girl muttered weakly:

“Is it true? Did you… kill them, that night, five years ago?”

Sol hesitated, trying to find the right words, but in the end, he decided the only right words were the truth:

“Veronica… I confess… I did kill them, all by myself five years ago. But the reasons were to my own… if you know why you’d understand. I…”

“I don’t care why you did it.” She said, cutting him off, “You have to understand that things were pretty harsh back then… it was… I don’t know… I was… sorta glad that they left that power plant… ya know. But this isn’t me thanking you or anything. I’m just glad that I know the truth now.”

“So… you’re not mad at me?”

“Well… no, not really,” she said, “life in the wasteland… sane people rarely goes around doing stuff without a reason. And you don’t look like the kind of people that would go around doing things for absolutely no reason at all.”

Sol looked at her with a gaze that seemed a bit sad. It was true that it was his intention to kill those Brotherhood Paladins back then. But it was never his intention in any way to hurt his friend. But to his surprise, Veronica took him by the shoulder, and smiled brilliantly.

“It’s okay, Sol,” she said, “it’s all in the past now. There’s… there's no need to feel sad over it.”

Sol managed to grin, but just a bit.

“In fact…” Veronica suddenly grabbed Sol’s hand and dragged him across to the other side of the test site. There stood Elder McNamara and Edgar. They were there helping the injured men.

“Elder McNamara!” She called. He turned around.

“Veronica,” he said, “What’s the matter?”

“Well, sir…” she said, reluctantly, “I have… I have a proposition.” She briefly looked over to Sol who was confused but smiled anyway, she continued, “I want… I want to go out there to the surface world, exploring.”

It took a moment for it to sink into them, both McNamara and Edgar. They couldn’t believe what they’d heard. But in hindsight, McNamara had a feeling deep down, that this was what Veronica felt. But he asked her anyway:

“What makes you want to do that?”

“Well, sir,” She explained, “After all of this, I’ve realized that I have much to learn. There is so much out there that we as a tribe cannot even begin to comprehend. But I want to learn about them anyway, no matter what it takes.”

“You,” Edgar joined in, “would go about the world above revealing this chapter’s secrets? To the surface world?”

“Oh Edgar you silly man, of course I’m not going to do that. I might be reckless, but I’m not dumb. I’m only leaving to learn about what had happened after we went into hibernation. Because to be honest, I don’t think this tribe is exactly aware of the cultures above the surface, even back when it was founded.”

“I don’t know, Veronica, it all seems a bit risky.”

“With all due respect, sir elder,” Solmund suddenly said, drawing their attention, “I have been living on this surface world for all my life. And I’m discovering new things every day. Whether it’s a ghoul who’s been a slave to a bunch of crazy Nightkins, a sniper who’s mourning the loss of the love of his life… or a little scribe, who just yearns for adventure.”

Veronica looked at him in awe, as if her surprise was thanks for taking by her side. Sol continued:

“Not to mention, I discover new and old technology every single day. Like my buddy ED-E over there. Clearly those kinds of technology are not something that the Brotherhood of Steel have in their archives. Do you know why? Because we have been here on the surface exploring, while you have not.”

“Please, sir…” Veronica begged him.

McNamara let out a long sigh. He stared at Veronica who was still begging him with her young bright gaze. The elder looked over to Edgar who still felt a little distrust towards Solmund. But it would seemed that they had no choice.

“Well…” The elder finally said, “If that is what you think is best… I will let you go exploring this world.”

“Oh yes, thank you, thank you, thank you so much, sir.” She pulled the elder in for a hug, catching him off guard, but he eventually hugged her back.

“One day, I’ll return to you guys, I promise.” And with that she said her goodbyes to the only home she’d ever known in her entire life. And walked away into the long mysterious setting sun on these bright and rough Nevada sand.

“So I guess…” Sol said, “You’ll be joining us?”

“Yup,” she replied, “Although, I must warn ya, I snore in my sleep.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

“I don’t know, is it?” She grinned.

“Shh…” Solmund suddenly stopped her as he looked beyond the fence.

“What?”

“Do you hear that?” He asked her as they both looked up North, to the place far beyond the sand and the wasteland, they heard it.

“ _YIPPIE YAY, THERE’LL BE NO WEDDING BELLS FOR TODAY…”_


	22. Knight in Shining Armor

Solmund thought to himself…

Why did you do it? Five years ago? You must have had a reason. Most sane folks around here don’t go about doing things without a reason. So what was yours? Well, if I was being completely honest with myself? I was bored.

I’d spent countless years throughout walking the sand of this country. I’d seen it all, California, Shady Sands, Rocky Mountain, Utah, Wyoming, the Colorado River even the city Vegas didn’t treat me as a stranger. Even though I'd never once set foot into that bright city. I’d always heard songs and dances echoing even as I walked from afar behind the great big walls that intercepted me and the city.

That was when I met him, many years back. Mark Hsu… 

I was wandering to the ruins up North to the state of Wyoming. A state where it clearly had a good amount of Followers of Apocalypse’s influences over it. There was also a few NCR camps around but only so that they could aid the Followers in caravan protection or small business. Not much national wise. There really wasn’t much to work with in this state, it was a barren wasteland that suffered harsh winters. Not much salvaging could come from this. But the Followers insisted on staying, so they stayed. I never realized that NCR influences spread this far. Although to be fair, perhaps not even the NCR themselves realized that there was a station here up North. The troopers here also seemed a lot more… tame, they didn’t follow much of NCR protocols or rules, instead spent their efforts in helping the Followers. I'd prayed that the NCR never finds out about them.

Although there was one particular thing that would certainly spark interest in anybody passing through the state. Although Wyoming’s a barren land, on the side of one of the small mountains, there was a house. It was an old crumbling house that was aging as much as the land around them. Some said that the house had been there since the day of the Great War. Nobody knew for sure what really lied within that place. Because everybody knew for a fact that once you go inside the house, you don’t come out again. That was the story that they told the folks around Wyoming. At least… before I met the NCR private. 

Mark was a young man, a little younger than I was back then. He was a private. Told me that it was an honor to be in the presence of a real ranger. I didn’t know what to say to him. All I did was smile.

“Name's Solmund,” I said, “this man here is my friend, Oscar. Although you might’ve heard of him by the name Odysseus.”

“Oh dear,” said mark, “I’ve heard countless tales about your travels, sir… um… Odysseus.”

“Please, just call me Oscar.”

“Okay.” Mark was the single most humble man I had ever met. He was a small man, not very tall nor very imposing. He was a man who had seen a lot of the ‘gifts’ granted by War. His face, covered in dirt. And yet he smiled a strange smile, as if he was actually grateful to experience the blood and bones of wars. I did not understand him, he was a strange one.

“So what are you doing out here, Mark?” I asked.

“Well, you know. We had orders to set up station here to help the Followers of Apocalypse. But to be honest I don’t even know what they’re doing out here. The Followers said they made their base here because there were a lot of good plant samples around here to make medicine out of. I’m not buying that though. But honestly, I don’t really mind, the Followers are good folks. I’m just happy to help them.”

Oscar then asked:

“Do your commanding officers back in California know that you’re stationed here? What was their original objective?”

“I don't think they're aware,” he said, “we’ve been out here for god knows how long. I did wonder from time to time, though. But the general wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Well,” Oscar said, “I think I know what it is,” He looked at me as I nodded, “it’s the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“The what?” Mark cried.

“The NCR wanted to get rid of the Brotherhood of Steel,” I explained, “the two are ideologically different, you see. Maybe a little too different. So much so that one cannot live with the other around. Although, the Brotherhood’s numbers are dwindling, the NCR wanted to make sure there’s none left alive. I think that’s why you’re stationed out here.”

“Wow, I never knew.” Mark said naively.

“Although,” I continued, “Given the fact that your _general_ had not issue orders for your withdrawal back to California, which only means that there’s either still Brotherhood of Steel around here or your commanding officers just don’t have the caps to feed all of you.”

“I agree.” Oscar said.

“Well,” Mark said, a bit unsure of himself, “things are still a bit harsh around here for NCR folks, especially for normal troopers like me. But I don’t really mind staying a bit longer.” He smiled again, that bright grin.

Oscar and I also decided to stay there for a while longer. There wasn’t a lot of firepower backing the Follower folks, and these folks were pacifists by nature. So I didn’t know if I could forgive myself if a monster comes along and murder all of them. Most of the work around here wasn’t really anything too challenging though, mostly just labor work, help lifting crates, collect samples, that kind of stuff. I thought that there wasn’t going to be anything too bothersome. Evidently I was wrong.

One day, one of the Follower folks pulled down their flag so they could fix up the stitches, wash off the dirt. There was a group of people nearby, they must have seen our encampment nearby.  Because they came as quick as the wind and as savage as the wolves. I didn’t even see what happened. But all I knew was that there was heavy damage. They came thinking that they could salvage some Old World tech from the Followers. Maybe the NCR were right. Maybe there really were still Brotherhood members wandering around up North.

Oscar woke me up. Most of the NCR troopers stayed to help repair the damage. But one of them did not. Because he was captured. Just our luck! They had to take Mark with them. I’d never seen this side of the Brotherhood before in my life. They’d evolved pass just simple raiders. These are organized criminals, chasing a lost cause. I decided to follow them despite Oscar insisting that I shouldn’t. He said that there was too many of them, and that I would die. But I didn’t care. They took Mark – and they had to pay.

I followed them, it was dark. The moon wasn’t there that night, so I had to take some Cateye to see where I was going. I followed the scent of metal in their armor and the trail of heavy footsteps that the sand told me about. They were huge, and they were close. They took him to an opening area nearby. I thought that they wanted to take him in as hostage of some sort. Or maybe it was because they didn’t wanted to be seen by an NCR officer, so they took him there to kill him. But either way, they weren't getting away that easily. They took away a handful of the weapons and ammunition from our camp, they also carried away our electrical generator, probably to salvage it later.

I remembered it like it was yesterday. The event that happened after they took Mark back to where the Brotherhood made their camp. I tried my best to get pass their first line of defenses, I took a service rifle with me, and sniped them from afar. Their armor was pretty thick, though. I couldn’t get through. In the end I had to resort to explosives, a mine trap that I hid under the dirt. It did the trick for most of them. But what of the rest?

The rest of them took Mark to a remote location. It was a house.

I was too busy fighting off the wave of Paladins surrounding me at the time. Their rifles burned through the boulders and their shots were quick. Clearly this was a group of well-trained Paladins. It took a heck of a long time. But all was quiet now…

By the time I reached the house, it was already too late. I never did see what had actually happened within the house itself. But I felt it. Pumping through my veins. A rush of tension that I’d never felt before. And there before me stood a thing of absolute impossibility. The first survivor of the house.

Mark was shaking like a scared little animal. He was sweating like a melting ice cube. And his eyes, filled with darkness that drowned away his soul. I remembered very well the details. He collapsed onto me, and the last words he ever said that night was:

“Traps… traps… so many… traps…” he mustered the last of his shaking words, the words of fear.

Thus, from that day forth. It was dubbed the House of Traps.

That was what these people did, they told stories to each other. Stories about raiders in shining metal armor kidnapping a soldier to a house full of traps. It was a compelling story, but not to me. I’d traveled these lands so much that exchanging these kinds of stories around the campfire had became a chore to me. I felt… empty… as if I was walking on the same sand, living through the same type of story over and over again. In these kinds of story, the hero of the story, the courageous hero rescues the ones being kidnapped from the band of raiders, the band of monsters. And in the end, rides into the sunset victorious, in a noble manner. As if the hero had rescued a princess from a castle. All while, of course, sparing the life of those raiders in a heroic manner, because the hero is so much of a better person than those petty thugs. I’d heard the story countless times.

So maybe – just maybe, I tried to mix things up this time. None of those evil doers shall be spared by our noble hero. And if our noble hero dies, then at least he will die knowing the taste of blood lust.

That was why I killed them. Like I said, because I was bored.


	23. I'm a King Not a Doctor

I’m insane, Sol thought to himself, there was no way in hell he could tell Veronica the real reason, the reason that it happened. In fact he could never let anyone know about it. Not Boone, not Raul, not even ED-E. Maybe, one day… one day, maybe when on his death bed, he could write his will, confess everything and put it in an envelope. No, wait, that won’t do. They’d probably take it as the biggest practical joke in mankind’s history. Just like Boone said, he’ll kill Sol so hard that he’ll die again on the other side. 

They had been walking for days now. But finally, they had finally reached the city…

… Or so they thought. Apparently they’d have to get pass an entire small town surrounding the city of New Vegas. People call it Freeside. An open space slum which when compared to the city of New Vegas itself was a world of a difference. The area was wrecked, with old buildings standing on its last legs trying not to fall apart from the concrete that was holding it up. Solmund checked his map on the Pip-Boy, apparently the Crimson Caravan Company made their camp just on the outskirt of Freeside. It was a short walk, maybe he could drop by and pick up some papers for the red hair girl at the Mojave Outpost. She was probably too drunk to even read the paper work anyway, so might as well take care of it. 

Solmund had been to Freeside many times actually, mostly just to stay for the night with the Crimson Caravan folks so he could be on his way in the morning. But this time… this time was very different. Mostly because of that rapscallion who lived behind those metal walls beyond Freeside. The one who left Sol at the Goodsprings’ cemetery to die many months ago. 

“So that’s why you’re here,” Veronica said, just realizing after hearing his story of how he ended up in Goodsprings, “Wow, I’ve never actually seen anybody who could even move after a shot to the head but you… you got it twice… and yet you’re still walking as if you’re on Jet or something.”

It was true, Sol felt a lot more powerful after he woke up from his ten days coma. Maybe what people said was true, 'what doesn’t kill you simply makes you stronger'. It was as if the desert of Nevada was bowing down to his will, like he was some kind of king or emperor. He stared at Vegas from afar multiple times during his travels across the Western world. But until now, he had never felt such power flowing through his body, power flowing through the city’s veins. It was as if he could just grab the city from afar and put it in his palms. He felt as if Benny did not have any way to escape, or rather he could not escape from his grasps. What really happened that night at the cemetery? Sol wondered. But he simply could not remember the emotions he felt before he was shot in the head. 

Maybe… maybe he’ll find that lost emotion once he confronted that darn city boy.

All of them were strolling down the crumbling streets of Freeside. It was a large area, with many streets leading to many different corners. When suddenly they heard multiple gunshots from afar.

Freeside had had its reputation on the block on how violent things could get around here. Thieves, murderers weren’t exactly rare. Even some cannibals here and there. They’d all had their squabbles before. But this was different, the noises, they were a lot more violent. With every gunshot, Sol could hear blood trickling from somebody’s skull. It was very familiar to him, and yet he had never felt anything like it before. This wasn’t some petty quarrel of some random shopkeeper cheating somebody’s caps. No, this was a war.

They quickly turned around the corner to find – exactly what Sol predicted – a warzone. Two groups, firing their guns endlessly at each other. On their left was a bunch of young looking folks dressing in some strange choice of outfits, some wearing white t-shirts with jeans, others wearing black jackets over shirts with black and white stripes. Many of them had their hair slicked back. On the opposite side, were a bunch of folks whom at first seemed like normal locals around these parts, but upon closer inspection, a lot of them were wearing parts and pieces of a standard trooper’s uniform, some were wearing shoulder pads, some knee pads, some even had body armor – they were NCR.

But NCR war, wasn’t anything new to Sol. What surprised him wasn’t the battle, it was the person who was shooting from the NCR side. From afar, he did not recognized at first due to a difference in outfit, but he was sure of it, no doubt.

“Cass?”

She was wearing a sleeveless duster, with an NCR symbol printed on her back. She’d tied her hair and hid it under a wide cowboy hat, she was also wearing a pair of shades now, and her face – covered in dirt and mud as if she’d been in a brawl with a Brahmin. She was obviously dressing differently to avoid attention. She certainly looked very different from the drunken persona she had back at the Outpost. She was somehow more focused. Despite trying to blend in with the crowd, Sol could see right through her.

“CASS!” Sol called out from afar, which caught her attention in an instant. But the gunfire was too wild and violent you could barely hear what was going on. The NCR had service rifles on their hands but the other group was wielding submachine guns.

But before Cass could even respond to him, a bullet pierced right through her shoulder. She fell to the ground, nearly biting the dust. It happened in a flash. Sol didn’t even have a chance to react, he could barely hear anything, not even his own scream. The battle… both sides had taken serious damage, they were retreating now. NCR folks were backing off from the streets, leaving behind a few wounded soldiers. The other group was also heavily injured. From afar, in just a few seconds there came a couple of people wearing white lab coats, they looked like doctors but Sol recognized the symbols on their coats, they were the Followers of Apocalypse.

“MEDIC!” Was the shout that came from all four directions, from both NCR and the opposing group. The Follower folks spared their efforts in helping both. Their doctors were hauling bodies to a closer area so they could treat these wounds. Sol immediately ran towards Cass.

“Cass! What on earth are you doing here?”

She bit her teeth in pain, the bullet was still lodged in her shoulders. Sol decided to help her to the doctors before asking question.

“C’mon, let’s get you up, you guys help too!”

They all dragged the bodies to where the other group of people was. The doctors were trying their best treating the wounds. One of them shouted from the crowd.

“We got a big one over here!”

And indeed they had, it was a man dressed in a white coat over a black shirt with black pants. He had his hair slicked back, but Sol could barely make out his face. It was badly wounded. So was the rest of his body which was mutilated with multiple gun wounds. The doctor seemed a bit unsure of himself, he rummaged through his kit with a distressed face. Sol could tell, he didn’t seem able to treat this kind of wound.

“I can’t do this,” the doctor cried, “we’ve got to go back to the Fort, this is beyond my capability.”

“But he can’t take much longer, he’s losing too much blood.”

“I know that.”

“And we can’t drag him back there, too, he doesn’t have the strength to do it.”

_“I know that!”_

“I’ll go get Arcade… he might be able to help.”

Sol had a sudden urge that soared through his nerves. It was as if he had experienced this before. He had no idea when or where, but he knew right there and then… that he just couldn’t help himself.

He said to the doctors, under a kind facade:

“I can do this, I can treat his wounds,” at this point all of their attention turned to him. They were silent and unsure. They didn’t know how to answer to this, but Sol ignored them and took powers to his own hands. He knelt down to the injured man. 

This was a serious wound, but why had he got this feeling that this was no big deal? He thought to himself. He pulled out from his duster a syringe of a strange substance, never before seen. One of the young doctors wanted to object, but the others just let Sol work. He injected it into him, and suddenly the mutilated body started to gasp for air. His breathing rate was increasing when just a moment ago he was near to cease breathing all together. Sol grabbed the first aid kit one of the doctors was carrying, they didn’t object. And he began working on the body.

The injuries were severe, Solmund had to try and pry out all the bullet wounds, disinfect them and then patch them up. The only problem was that these wounds were so severe an inexperienced doctor would’ve fainted from a shaking hand. But somehow… Sol felt steel and iron coating around his nerves. It was automatic, his hands, were swift and gentle. Everybody around them watched silently, anxiously.  From the behind the corners of the walls came a few more doctors, one of them, a young man, blond and was wearing glasses. He was racing towards the body of this injured man, but sadly for him, by the time he reached it… he had already been all patched up. Everybody looked at him in awe. They had no words to describe the situation. They looked at him as if he had just saved the life of the president of this whole country. It actually freaked a couple of them out.


	24. Followers of the Apocalypse

“Thank you, I owe you my life. You saved me… back there.” the injured man said, “I’m the one they call the King. This here is my friend Pacer, and we appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

They were back at the place where the doctors reside. It was a place called Old Mormon Fort. And it was the Followers of Apocalypse’s base of operation. The doctors stayed here to help local folks around. Usually treating wounds from people who were robbed by thugs or those who came from petty squabbles. The Followers here were led by a woman called Julie Farkas. She was one of the leading doctors around here, had a funny looking haircut that gave Raul the heebie-jeebies. The other one of the leaders was a skilled doctor called Arcade Gannon. He looked like a young man, perhaps in his late twenties. He wore a lab coat and a pair of glasses. He looked like a regular doctor around here, like any others. But word was that he was one of the most skilled surgeons in the area. He could treat any wounds no matter the severity, with only the bare essentials.

The Followers were actively trying to treat wounds and injuries for the NCR troops and the King’s men. The man who was called the King was the leader of a gang called… the Kings. Yes, confusing as hell. Raul spent a few minutes trying to figure out which was which. Apparently they’d been at war with the local NCR citizens around these parts. The NCR – or the Squatters as the people called it. So that explained the little war they had going on a while back.

By the corner Sol was treating Cass’s bullet wounds. Veronica, Boone and Raul could only sit there and watch while ED-E floated around the Fort. The Followers sure were fascinated with the little fella. It only took a few seconds before Sol pried out the bullet and wrapped bandages around her shoulders. 

“Thanks.” Cass said. She was somehow… a lot more different than whom he’d met back at the Outpost. She was a lot more… focused for lack of a better term. And surprisingly not drunk.

Sol stared at her for awhile before he asked:

“Cass… what are you doing here? I thought that the NCR forbade you from leaving the Outpost.”

She looked at him, then said:

“It’s a long story…”

She was going to leave it at that, but Sol had this look at him telling her he was not satisfied, demanding for an answer. So she had no choice but to oblige:

“Okay… here’s the truth. I’m the owner of a little caravan called the Cassidy Caravans. You might have heard of it. Well, I ran the business trying to see if I could bring in some profit. It worked out fine at first, but as time goes on, the business started to go downhill. I wasn’t getting as much customers due to big competition, prices for caravan guards started to go through the roof, and my caravan started getting attacked. I was about to give up on the business when one day I investigated one of the caravans that got attacked. At first I thought it was just a gecko or something, my guard had melted the thing with his laser rifle. But on closer inspection, I found this.”

She pulled from her duster a note which she then waved around while continue explaining:

“It wasn’t some random attacks, it was an organized ambush… by none other than my competitors themselves. The Crimson Caravans in cahoots with the bloody Van Graffs, who specializes in selling energy weapons. They run a monopoly on energy weapons around here, you want some plasma or laser? You go to them. Those filthy bastards… so here I am… up here in Vegas trying to track them sons of bitches down.”

“How’d you caught up in the little battle in the first place?” Sol asked, “The one with the Kings and NCR?”

“Haven’t you noticed? I’m NCR. I saw one of my boys getting hurt so I stepped in and gave a helping hand. I couldn’t help myself. I never realized that they were firing at the Kings though. I never really had a problem with the Kings in the first place. They’re generally nice folks. They have their own laws around here though, but mostly just laws for their own ranks so that they could keep peace around here to an effective level. Strange bunch, though. A lot of them dress up in these weird outfits.”

Sol sat there in silence, he didn’t know what to say. But she sure was different than his first impression of her. Even in the way she dressed, it was a lot more cautious than that carefree girl who drank nothing but whiskey. It was like a split personality or something.

The silence was broken when Sol suddenly saw from afar the blond man called Arcade, calling for him, waving him from afar. Sol stood up and walked towards him.

Arcade had his sleeves rolled up with his palms all washed up of the blood from all the injuries he was treating. He was… for the least very mysterious, there were strange vibes from him that Sol just couldn’t figure out.

“I’d like to thank you for what you did for the King,” he said rubbing his hands together, “we Followers around here do have problems with keeping up with all the injured, so help are most certainly welcomed. Especially help from someone as talented as you are, not many are well-versed in the ways of treating wounds nowadays.”

Sol smiled:

“I’m flattered, thank you.”

“Well, I would love to stay and say more thanks to you, but the fact of the matter is that we can’t do that. Because we’ve got another problem. A problem that I think a man of your talent could be of use. You see, the NCR – or the Squatters, as they call it, they’ve been severely injured as well, we’d like to treat their wounds, but we’re not so sure if we can do that after treating their… ahem… opposition. It would be nice to have someone with your skills to accompany me to their camp to show our good will.”

Sol couldn’t put his fingers on it, on what it was about him. He was certainly polite and well-spoken, but maybe a little too polite, as if he was hiding something. Arcade continued:

“Oh good lord, where are my manners… hi, my name is Arcade Israel Gannon.  You can call me Arcade.” He extended his hands and Sol shook them.

“My name’s Solmund, you can call me Sol though.” He then turned around and pointed at his friends one by one, “the grumpy sniper’s name is Boone, the one wearing red robe – she’s Veronica. The other one's called Cassidy, you can call her Cass. And of course my  _‘best friend’_  Raul Tejada.” Sol said that last part sarcastically of course. But somehow Sol had a feeling that he could pick up the sarcasm.

“Oh I almost forgot, our little buddy over there, he’s ED-E. Spelled E-D-E. Apparently he’s quite popular with the Followers around here.”

“Yeah,” Arcade agreed, “we get quite work up once somebody brings in technology from the outside. They love it. Now, back to the matter at hand. Are you in?”

“Sure, why not. It’ll be fun.”

 

 

 

 

It was noon when Solmund and Arcade reached the NCR camp. It was at a secret location that the Followers had promised out of good will to not reveal to anyone. Ah, the Followers, one of the most gentle tribe of people on the planet, they’d help anyone, despite being named Followers of the Apocalypse. Sol was thinking that it was more likely that they were  _literally following after_  the Apocalypse that happened 200 years ago. Pretty smart if you think about it. Honestly, these folks, they couldn’t hurt a fly even if they wanted to. Sol wished that there were more people like the Followers in the wasteland.

Sol had decided to leave his friends behind, so they could help tend the wounded, while him and Arcade would go to the NCR and help them with the injured. 

“So you looked awfully… strange if you don’t mind me saying,” Arcade commented, “I guess it’s not too weird when you start to think about it. I mean, a ranger usually is pretty old, but then again they also rarely appear out in the public. What’s even weirder is that you look like a 20 year old super model.”

“Why the fuck does everybody keep saying that?” Sol cried, shaking his head, “I don’t look that young... or that good.”

“Ha ha, you're selling yourself a bit short here…” Arcade said, “you have to admit though that you look pretty young, as if you’re a friend with Lazarus himself.”

“Hey, the day I crawl out of a cave on the command of God is the day Deathclaws stopped being dangerous. Because I'm sure as hell that not even God could do something like that.”

“Well-versed in Old World stories, too.” Arcade complimented him. Sol had suspected it from the start, he was a lot smarter than normal folks. And a man as smart as he would always have secrets to hide.

They reached the NCR camp and half of the folks were injured from the fight. Arcade had to explain to the commanders that they came on their own good will. Although some NCR soldiers were a bit suspicious of Solmund. Mostly because Sol was wearing a ranger duster, which made them think that Sol was a spy of some sort. But in the end Arcade managed to convince them.

The injuries of these people weren’t too serious. The Kings definitely took more damage than the NCR. These guys had got better armor and better equipment, no matter how you look at it. Sol and Arcade spent the afternoon treating wounds, after many hours of sweat and blood, the pain finally managed to die down a little bit.

“Phew, that was intense,” Arcade said, wiping his forehead, “you’re a lot better than I expected. I’ve never even seen a doctor in my life as good as you.”

“Well,” Sol said, flattered, “I did help out a lot back in my days with the NCR. So I learned a bit here and there.”

“I can see that. I’m actually a little jealous,” Arcade smiled, “funny thing… I’ve actually been waiting for a little competition around here. I don’t want to brag but folks around here say that I’m the best doctor around. At least until you showed up. I was kinda bored for a long while. I know it's a ludicrous thing to say, but hey, it is what it is.”

Sol pondered on this for awhile. Was this what he was feeling all this time? Bored? For so long? He felt it… he had all of this power granted to him. But did he really want it? Normal folks when offered the opportunity of power, money, fame, they’d take it in an instance. But Sol? He felt different. He’d already established that he was insane. But what was this feeling? Was it a mental condition? He didn’t remember if he felt like this before he was shot in the head, but the feelings were there.

“So anyway,” Arcade snapped Sol out of his thoughts, “I was thinking… the Followers are kinda running low on supplies at the moment. And the Crimson Caravan is sort of busy on some Caravan trip which put them out of commission for a while. Treating these soldier boys really put a dent in our supplies. So the only place left to get medicine is in the city itself.”

Sol’s heart jumped a beat, it was a strange emotion he couldn’t comprehend on the moment. Arcade continued:

“Would you mind coming along with me into the city? We’re going to need as much supplies as we can carry.”

“Sure,” said Sol, a bit unsure, “but doesn’t Vegas have a fee of entry? Or at least a passport in order to get through?”

“Not to worry my friend, I’m sure we can ask the King for a little favor, especially after what you did for him. The King, he has a lot of power around these regions.”


	25. Welcome to Fabulous New Vegas

Apparently, the King had a guy who’d been making fake passport in order to get into New Vegas. And apparently he'd been selling them passports for 500 caps each. Not a bad price considering an actual legit one costs 2000 caps. Not a lot of folks around Freeside had that kind of money to get into the city. Especially the Followers who had been practically giving away free stuff to the locals. Solmund doubted whether they even had enough money for a single passport. 

Fortunately, the King was a generous man, and with what Sol did for the King they’d got a set of free passports into the city. The only problem was…

“YEEHAW!!!”

Arcade slapped his palm on his forehead, sighing:

“Remind me again why she is coming with us?”

“Please, don’t ask me ‘cause I do not know…”

Veronica was skipping on her little feet as if she was ten years old all over again. Humming beneath her breath the tune of the song “Let’s Ride Into the Sunset Together” that she had been listening on the radio for the past few weeks. Said that it was her favorite song.

Solmund wasn’t even sure if this was going to work. The security of the city seemed pretty tight, so getting three people inside might cause a ruckus – especially with Veronica.  And Sol knew too well of Veronica’s little shenanigans. Apparently, Edgar and McNamara weren’t wrong about her. She liked to go around dawdling around a heap of sand to see if she could find any kind of treasure or stash box. Sol would’ve been fine with that... if it weren’t for one thing. She never gave a crap about bottle caps or mechanical parts or as she liked to call it ‘useless junk’. Nope, none of that nonsense. Instead she focused on finding… a dress. Yup, she wanted a goddamn dress. She’d been going on and on about how filthy and ridiculous her robe made her look and how it made her look like a hobo or something. Now she couldn’t stop talking about dresses. She almost had them killed while inspecting a little cave on the side of the mountain once, it turned out to be a cave full of goddamn fire ants. Took the whole evening that day just to put out the fire from the duster and shirts. Things were much simpler back when Sol just had to deal with Raul’s shenanigans. Do something stupid, take in his sarcasm and move on. He wasn't sure if he could ever move on from this.

Suddenly, from afar, they could hear it. It was like as if something had whispered an explosion into their ears. It came from a set of megaphones attached on the side of a large building down the street.

_“THE WARDEN THREW A PARTY IN THE COUNTY JAIL._

_THE PRISON BAND WAS THERE AND THEY BEGAN TO WAIL._

_THE BAND WAS JUMPIN' AND THE JOINT BEGAN TO SWING._

_YOU SHOULD'VE HEARD THOSE KNOCKED OUT JAILBIRDS SING._

_LET'S ROCK, EVERYBODY, LET'S ROCK!!!”_

Sol felt strange, he just couldn’t describe the feeling. He saw the King down the street at the building waving and smiling at them. He was telling them something. Sol was sure of it. But what was it? He wondered.

It was only then that he realized what he was standing before. He had been travelling past this place countless times. During those countless times he had never felt anything. And yet, now, he felt a whole new world opened right before his very eyes. The trumpets were sounding, there were echoes of the drums, and the saxophones were as loud as storms on the mountains. Sol couldn’t believe it, it was the voice of Frank Sinatra himself, his voice, his songs. Sol could hear it, the trumpets, the piano, he could hear the sound of New Vegas, the golden oasis…

 

 

 

 

“…  _‘CAUSE I GOT SPURS THAT JINGLE JANGLE JINGLE, AND I GO RIDIN’ MERRILY ALONG…”_

It was breathtaking. The city, Sol had never seen anything like it before. Not in the span of three score years of his life. It was as if the buildings were crafted from pure gold and ivory.

“…  _AND I GO RIDIN’ MERRILY ALONG…”_

It was a feeling that pushed its way around Sol’s body, paralyzing him, a sensation of relaxation and calmness. Such to a degree he’d never known before.

“…  _AND THEY SING, OH AIN’T YOU GLAD YOU’RE SINGLE…”_

It reminded him of long forgotten emotions. He felt it, he felt as if he could actually be himself in this place, there were no restrictions, no burden.

“…  _AND THAT SONG AIN’T SO VERY FAR FROM WRONG…”_

It suddenly hit him, he never realized it. The city, it actually felt like home.

The area was massive and loud with echoing music from every corner. Everywhere you looked there was a gambler in a well dressed suit dancing his or her ways into one of the big casinos around. The casinos, they shone this beautiful, radiant golden light. A light that reassured all passerby that their worries simply did not exist in this kingdom of gold and diamonds. The streets were surprisingly clean, not a single speck of dust or a piece of trash. The streets, roamed by only the most high-class of people. They wore suits and ties that Sol never thought existed in this wasteland anymore. And these suits weren’t just shabby clothes from some dump. Oh no, they were clean and well ironed. 

And talk about the security of this place, they were guarded by only the most high-tech of robots. The Securitrons. They were the same kind of robots that old buddy Victor was. Big blue shoulders on a small wheel, and their faces – faces of Old World policemen – placed on their torso in the form of a television screen. They seemed somewhat menacing, but it was the good kind of menace. It was power, the power of New Vegas. Sol wasn’t even sure if he should call these robots menacing. And speaking of Victor…

“Hi their old friend! Welcome to the city of New Vegas!”

“Wow!” All three Sol, Veronica and Arcade gasped. It clearly wasn’t anything they’d ever seen in their entire whole life.

“So… what do you think friend?” Victor asked, “How’s Vegas for ya? Hope it’s not too shabby for your taste.”

“No, no, no,” Sol quickly said, “Not one bit.” Still gaping in awe. 

“Well,” Victor said, “here in Vegas, we have a saying – just enjoy your stay. You and your friends. There’s tons of things for you to do around here. Go to the bar, grab a drink, go see the restaurants and hotels. And of course the casinos. Just don’t spend your chips all in one place.”

“Uh… thanks… thank you very much.” Arcade said.

“Ooh one more thing,” Victor said to Sol, “remember when I told you about the man behind the RobCo industry and how he wanted me in Vegas. Well, the man – the one and only Mr. House has extended his invitation to you to join him in his well-known casino the Lucky 38 for a business proposition. He’s got a lot of things to say to a man like you, friend. So come on down to the Lucky 38, the Big Man is expecting ya.”

Sol didn’t know what to feel. It was strange. He was rather lost in this city. Not lost in the sense of directions. But rather in the sense of emotions. He looked over to his left, there was a building. The one and only building, the Lucky 38 casino. With its structure towering into the heavens above. It was a tower that could be spotted from anywhere in Nevada. The lights, the noise, the music, the magic. Sol had heard stories of that casino. No man had ever set foot into the casino for nearly hundreds of years. And here they were, Victor just extended an invitation as if it was no big deal. Sol felt the weight and the eyes of the local gamblers on his back, because he knew that they were going to be the first men and woman to ever set foot into that grand casino. And Solmund had a feeling that it was all because of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of the song lyrics used here. It belongs to their respected owners, in this case "Jailhouse Rock" - Elvis Presley and "Jingle Jangle Jingle" - Kay Kyser.


	26. The House of Vegas

“Your friends can wait here in the casino while you go upstairs.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, kinda personal business… with you specifically.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, don’t you know? You’re very important.”

“Well…”

“It’s okay, Sol. Just go on ahead.”

“Come on now, partner, the boss’s waiting.”

The door – closed for a thousand years now opened up for the very first time. Light shone onto this dark tomb. There were strange sounds resonating throughout the casino. It rumbled through the walls and the ceiling. With endless lines of slot machines and roulette tables stretching along the long walls. The slot machines, covered in dust, had stopped spitting out chips since many years ago. The blackjack tables, with dust smearing all over the surface, Sol could barely make out the logo for the Lucky 38. Along the side of the walls, where the bar was, there was a couple of wine glass, some with a few drops of whiskey left in them. Countless wine bottles, beer bottles, martinis, all left untouched. This place, felt dead. 

“Come now, partner…”

The two of them traveled up an elevator, the whole damn thing was coated in gold. It was the most luxurious thing Sol had ever seen in his life. Everything around here felt expensive, so he didn’t want to touch them despite having a feeling that the place had been abandoned for years now. Who was Mr. House? He wondered. Was he even real? The place seemed like it was inhabited only by robots and machines, so who could possibly be living in this place?

It took a good long minute or so before the elevator stopped. Understandable since the Lucky 38’s tower was so damn tall. There were probably around a hundred floors or so that they’d gone pass, or at the very least, it felt that way.

The elevator door opened to a view of light that slashed at Sol’s eyes, nearly blinding him. The lights, he’d never imagined it could get so bright. Countless years crossing the desert, looking through rough and vicious sandstorms. The lights, they were… neutral… strange way of describing it, but he didn’t know what it was that was blinding him. It was the first building in his life that he actually felt he was lifted up and beyond the heavens. What was all of this feelings, he wondered. 

It was a large room with white floors and stones crafted onto the floors and the walls. What he was staring at was a large glass window where he could view out into the wasteland he’d been walking all his life. He had never seen the Mojave from above before. There was a certain beauty to this ruins that he’d walked. 

Victor signaled him to a set of stairs in the next room which led him to the most amazing thing he’d ever witnessed.

A gigantic computer console – with a big magnificent bright screen in front of him. It was like a gem, this emerald mirror shining a projected image of a middle-age man with a mustache. He seemed well-dressed, with a suit, tie and all that. His hair was short and slicked sideways. He projected a strange aura onto Sol. He read something about this before – or at least he seemed to vaguely recall – the Emerald City of the Wizard of Oz. It was a book that he read when he was a kid, now he could barely remember it, especially after that incident with the bullet to the head. 

“Ah… look… at… this…”

The computer… it spoke! Sol was startled, he didn’t know how to react.

“Come now… don’t be frightened,” The computer said, “this meeting has been long time coming, hasn’t it? You’ve come a long way, literally, and I suspect figuratively as well.”

Solmund stood there, still a bit frozen from shock. He didn’t know shock from what, though. Because part of him somewhat suspected that something like this would turn up. He just didn’t think that it actually happened.

“Well… since you’ve spent efforts making your way all the way here, let me be the one to officially welcome you – to the city of Fabulous New Vegas. The legendary city that they tell in stories during their travels. The so called Golden Oasis of the wasteland. The last remnant of the Old World civilization, the civilization of the Old West.”

Solmund then said slowly:

“Who… who… are you?”

“I thought I had Victor explain everything to you. Well doesn’t really matter. My name is Robert Edwin House, founder of the RobCo Industries, currently CEO and proprietor of this New Vegas Strip.”

“What exactly do you want with me? I’m just a lone traveler.”

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s time to spill the beans now. No sense in keeping you in the dark anymore. You do know why you’re here in New Vegas don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sol said, “It’s to track down a city boy called Benny. Slicked hair, checkered coat, left one of his lighter behind.” Sol held up the engraved lighter for the computer to see.

“Oh yes, I realize. In fact, Benny was and still is one of my best employees whom I’ve put my trusts into running the show here in the Strip. But, as the little  _rapscallion_  he is, he had a change of heart and… um… put a little blockade in between me and my plans. And I intent to get rid of this blockade as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible? Heh, you _do_ know how long it took me to get here, right? That’s a load of crap you’re talking if you’re trying to tell me that it took over twenty five thousand months for you to haul your robot ass out of this place and walk a few yards across the street.”

“Fair observation,” Mr. House said, without any signs of anger at all, “But I’m going to be honest with you here. Let’s not hide secrets from each other, shall we? We both know  _very_  well that  _YOU!_  You of all people are one of the most powerful men in the entire United States of America. No point trying to deny it. So what is a couple of months wasted compare to having you of all people working alongside with me?”

“How do you know that I won’t just refuse your offer and walk out of here, penniless and all. Because to be honest, no matter the amount of caps you’re going to offer, none of it matters to me.”

“Ha-ha,” Mr. House laughed, “Very clever… you really are a bright one. But you see the thing here is that… I’m not offering you money. You and I both are so superior to the other vermin that we have evolved pass the needs for trivial things such as money. I have so much of it that even if I give away 90 percent of it away, I’d still have enough to sustain New Vegas and go off to a year long vacation on a bright sunny beach coast.”

“What then? What could you possibly have that could interest me?”

“The future…”

Sol looked at him strangely, Mr. House then explained:

“Look out of that window, tell me… what do you see?”

Sol walked to the nearest window, he was so high above the ground it was breathtaking. He almost couldn’t breathe. He said, a bit unsure:

“I don’t know… I see people… I see bloodshed, war… I see scavengers trying to make a living.”

“Yes indeed, that’s what you see in the Mojave Desert. But tell me what do you see in Vegas?”

Sol looked again still a bit unsure, but Mr. House said before he could reply:

“I’ll tell you what I see. I see… comfort, riches, food, water… I see home, home in the middle of all the bloodshed and war that _you_  see. But alas, home is just a small little place somewhere in the Southwest Commonwealth of the West Coast. A small place compared to something as big as the United States of America, or even the world. It is only my simple wish that I can bring Vegas… to everyone. Come now, have a seat.”

They talked for hours on end. Mr. House told him his story. Born on June 25th 2020. He had a rough childhood, apparently lost both parents to a freak accident when he was just a wee lad. His later years weren’t much better either. His half-brother, Anthony House, cheated him out of his inheritance. Despite this, he took advantage of whatever he had on hands at that point. Which was just his brain.

Founded RobCo Industries when he was only 22 years old. RobCo, the company that was home to many of the technology found in the wasteland, the Pip-Boy on Sol’s wrist, the Protectron robots, sentry bots, etc. Even the Stealth Boys used by the Nightkin Super Mutants, all came from RobCo. Sol was fascinated to hear much about Mr. House. There was an old saying, that all roads lead to Rome, which described the conquests and size of the Roman Empire where all the roads built led to its center, the capital city Rome. But now, in 2281, the saying here went ‘ _all roads lead to Vegas’_. Which wasn't hard to believe.

House was both a technological genius and a prodigy in the fields of… knowledge itself. Predicting that the Great War was to happen in approximately around 2080, these predictions were made during his years in 2065. Although the real War occurred in 2077, these predictions were far more accurate than anybody could’ve ever predicted back then in his times. 

There was just something about the way that Mr. House talked that… fascinated Solmund. He had never been so engaged in a conversation before in his entire whole life. There was a certain… pull, certain charm, no, certain gravity to his well crafted words that pulled him into the conversation. 

“All of this… all of my plans and hard work,” House said, “all of them, revolves around acquiring a certain object… the Platinum Chip. That’s right, the very same object that you… you, a courier was suppose to deliver to me a long time back. The chip was printed in Sunnyvale, California, and was suppose to be hand-delivered to me on the day October 23rd 2077. Alas… if only I had a little more time.”

“What happened?” Sol asked.

“Well,” he explained, “the Platinum Chip, on the surface might seem like just another piece of overly-designed jewelry with the purpose of excessive decoration. But the Chip is far more valuable than just gold or silver or platinum. It was in fact, a highly complex program that was ready to be installed into my computer mainframes, it contains one of the most highly sophisticated algorithm conceived in the history of mankind. The kinds of algorithm with the power to upgrade this very casino – the Lucky 38 – into a fortress so powerful that it would make the Brotherhood of Steel’s bunkers seem like a small tent by the side of a road.”

“Why go through all the trouble of making this… device when you can just activate everything from this computer console?”

“The thing is – I had to. During my process of building this so called fortress the Lucky 38, I knew I had to take some countermeasures against thieves and hackers trying to access my data. I could very well use a simple password, or a simple hard drive to access the data, but so could the intruders who were out to steal my life’s work. You’d be surprised how many of those buffoons tried to do that. It’s absurd. The Chip… it was a lot more powerful than any hardware that a simple mechanic around here can come up with. It had to be custom made.”

“But you didn’t get the Chip… did you?”

“No, unfortunately, no. I was forced into using an inferior model of my super computer when the nuclear warheads decided to strike. There were in total of 77 nuclear warheads aimed at the city of New Vegas. My networked mainframes were able to predict and force-transmit disarm code subsets to 59 warheads, neutralizing them before impact. Laser cannons mounted on the roof of the Lucky 38 destroyed another 9 warheads. The rest got through, though none hit the city itself. A subpar performance, wouldn’t you agree?”

“But with the Platinum Chip, things would’ve been different, right?”

“Right... and that brings us to the main point of this meeting... acquiring the Chip. And I must be honest with you, it won’t be easy. You might be wondering why I can't just send in one of my Securitrons to acquire the Chip themselves without breaking a sweat, well, the truth is that because it would be a violation of the laws and treaties set by the City itself. I cannot allow interference with the Families’ Casino business using my personal Securitrons. Most of the Families do not fancy the presence of those robots inside their casino. Especially that... Benny.”

“Let me guess, this is where I come in.”

“Right as always,” House said, “You have to be careful, Benny is no doubt on high alert knowing that he possesses such immense power in his palms... but... from the moment I saw you come in here with that calm demeanor of yours... I suspected something to be... off.”

Sol blew from his breath a circle of smoke from a cigar he had just lit. He said:

“You said it yourself,  _one of the most powerful men in the United States of America_. Acquiring the Chip... it’s not a problem. The problem here is... what to do with that Chip.”

Mr. House was silent, Sol continued:

“You know why I’m here don’t you? ... you’re a very smart man, Robert... you know very well that if I'd wanted to... I could’ve just walk in here, show you that Platinum Chip and burn this place down to the ground... you know very well that I have that capability, don’t you?”

“Yes... yes I do...”

“Then tell me... why should I even consider working for you? Tell me your Vision... tell me the future.”


	27. Nobody 'Till Somebody Loves You

_“Run system diagnoses…”_

_“OPERATING SYSTEM VER. 0.97: 43% OPERATIONAL.”_

_“Status update, what’s the damage?”_

_“AER9 LASER CANNONS: 16 OPERATIONAL, 24 OFFLINE_

_LASER RCW: 2 OPERATIONAL, 28 OFFLINE_

_SPRTEL-WOOD 9700: 1 OPERATIONAL_

_MISSILE LAUNCHERS: 4 OPERATIONAL, 8 OFFLINE_

_HIGH VELOCITY MISSILES RESERVES: 11% REMAINING_

_MAX CHARGE ENERGY CELLS RESERVES: 28% REMAINING_

_MAX CHARGE MICRO FUSION CELLS RESERVES: 0% REMAINING_

_MAX CHARGE ELECTRON CHARGE PACK RESERVES: 0% REMAINING_

_FUSION CORE RESERVES: 4% REMAINING”_

_“Runs system diagnoses on the casino and hotel…”_

_“AIR CONDITIONING SYSTEM: FUNCTIONAL_

_INTERNAL COOLING SYSTEM: OFFLINE_

_CASINO’S NETWORK: OFFLINE_

_FOOD AND WATER SUPPLIES: STOCKED_

_NUMBER OF HOTEL GUESTS: 438”_

_“Damn it!”_

_“SIR, INCOMING NUCLEAR WARHEADS, ESTIMATE TIME BEFORE IMPACT: 13 MINUTES. PLEASE RUN THE NEW PROGRAM UPDATES TO UPGRADE THE DEFENSE SYSTEM…”_

_“I can’t goddamn it! I don’t have the chip.”_

 

Robert sat there, staring at his computer monitor. He sighed:

“Jane, get me a glass of whiskey.”

_“Yes sir.”_

The Securitron poured into the glass the sparkling orange liquid. Robert gulped it all down in one sip. He wiped his mouth and stared endlessly into the gigantic monitor screen before him. With the numbers counting down, 12 minutes and 3 seconds. Just twelve minutes left before impact.

It’s over now. Robert, thought to himself. There was no way to stop the nuclear warheads. He could practically see that bright light just by looking outside of his windows. That bright light far beyond the horizon.

_“Would you care for another glass, sir?”_

“No, no… put that away… I can’t…”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Jane…” he called.

_“Yes?”_

“Get everybody out of the casino now. I don’t care what they’re doing, drinking, screwing, playing blackjacks, winning on the slot machines, I do not care… just get them out of the casino and close the door, lock the gate…”

_“What should I tell them? 12 minutes is not nearly enough time for them to get to a shelter.”_

“I said, ugh, I DON’T CARE! Just get their asses off my property.”

 _“Yes sir.”_  The Securitron went into the other room and started contacting the front desk, telling them what was happening. While Robert still sat there, staring blankly at the green monitor screen. 

So this is how it ends, he thought. Consumed by nuclear fire, flames of war. Those goddamn Chinese. Or was it the Americans? Didn’t matter now. Everything will be gone in a few minutes. Including Vegas. Robert grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured another glass despite saying that he didn’t need one. He raised the glass in the air and under his helpless breath whispered:

“Viva Las Vegas…” then took a sip, swallowing the orange liquid.

What had his life led him to? He wondered. What was he really trying to accomplish throughout his whole life? He looked back, there wasn’t much to cherish in his childhood. Father? Nope, dead. Mother? Nope, dead. Brother? That jackass that stole half his fortune? Might as well be dead, he didn’t even know where the sly bastard was now. So what was it? What was he really trying to accomplish with all of this? He spent years building this place, building a legacy. His company grew, grew into a mighty empire, good enough to rival the size of Alexander’s conquest. Or even better, to rival Rome. Was this what he had wanted? Spending years building this empire, just to see it burn in flames?

No…

This was what he had loved, he loved his work, he loved his company, his machinery. That was why he built faces into a lot of his robots. Even robots, whose purpose was to be no more than a slave, had its own personality modules that Robert spent countless nights building. Why did he build all of this? It was to build Las Vegas, that was why. Because Las Vegas… was his home…

Suddenly, a flaming spark struck his eyes. He stood up from his chair and tapped on the keyboard like a crazed maniac high on Jet. He bellowed through the building:

“JANE!”

 _“Yes, sir.”_  The Securitron rushed through.

“Has the casino been cleared?”

_“Yes, sir. All customers, patrons had left the building.”_

“Good, then initiate Operation .0981237, Code Name: Skeleton King.”

Jane the Securitron, gasped:

_“Sir, you don’t mean.”_

“I do, Jane, I have to do this. It’s the only way. Despite this being a super computer, there’s just not enough juice left to get the defensive system back and running. Long term stability at all cost, Jane. Don’t you forget, the city comes first.”

Robert typed in some commands which initiated a sequence of algorithms, appearing on the screen as a series of codes and numbers. This took a while. The countdown was at 7 minutes, 23 seconds.

Robert finished typing and let the sequence ran its course. Then on the screen appeared a box which asked for confirmation. Stating that the cryonic preservation chamber was ready…

It would’ve been so easy, just to push a little button. But Robert knew the consequences very well. He knew that this will be his life… his life, to him, a small price to pay to have Vegas live. But was he really ready to go?

“What do you think?” Surprisingly, Robert wasn’t speaking to Jane this time, “Do you think I should do it?”

From the shadows came a figure wearing a long dirty coat and a brown hat. He was smoking under his breath. And his boots were heavy. He had an aura that exerted from him that made everybody around shiver in a strange manner. He blew his smoke, forming a ring. Apparently he had been watching Robert this whole time.

“You know,” the man said, “you’re the first of all the people I’ve encountered who didn't react, or act surprised when I show up.”

“Do you think I’m of those common folks?” Robert said, “The ignoramus?”

“Arrogant as always…”

“Tell me,” said Robert, “who are you, and what do you want?”

“Just came by to see how you’re coming along.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m busy. Jane, please escort this gentleman out of my Lucky 38, and please direct him to the nearest bunker.”

Robert then turned around, facing this large glowing screen.

The man behind him suddenly said:

“Immortality… I’ve seen much of it. It’s not usually something that common mortals have on their hands. At least not by the easy ways. And even then, the results are usually… unnatural.”

“Is there a difference?” Robert asked, “Life is life, there’s no damn difference between natural immortality and unnatural immortality.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” the man simply laughed, “even a man of your level of intellect could not even possibly begin to comprehend. But it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.”

“Well, then, what are you waiting for? Don’t you have a city to save?”

Robert still couldn’t work up the courage to do it. It was something that he had never experienced before. It was like… a greeting from Death. Robert sighed:

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do… do you… do you think that I’m a bad person?”

“Why do you care all of the sudden? You’ve never been the type that cared about anything that the people say about you. You never cared what they think of you.”

“Actually… I… um… it's… ahem… I mean, nobody's… _that_  heartless.”

“Oh?”

“Please, don’t act like that…” Robert told him, “You of all people should know. Don’t act surprise.”

“Heh, just lighten up the mood for ya.”

The man took another breath of his cigarette before saying to Robert:

“You’re a very special man, Robert, from the very day you were born. You were nothing short of extraordinary, and I know that you know that, too.”

“Money, intellect… I have to spare… it’s true… but… but…”

“Listen,” the man stopped Robert before a tear could drop from his eyes, “if there’s anything I could say about you then it would be that you are a very passionate man. You do all of these things, just because you love to do it. No man should ever fear doing what he loves just because others say otherwise.”

“But… do you think… do you think that this process… this whole process… could change me… for the worse? I… I… I’ve always wanted… I’ve always wanted…”

“… to be a better man… right?”

Robert nodded silently. Which made the man in the dirty coat smile brightly:

“Well… immortality… it’s a long… long time. You'll have plenty of time to spare.”

Robert stared again at the gigantic green monitor, beneath his mustache a slight grin, he looked at the computer for a good long minute before looking behind his back to find the man in the dirty coat to be… gone.

“Jane…”

_“Yes, sir…”_

“Will… will… will you still love me? Even… if… even if I’m… not me?”

_“Absolutely, sir, I would follow you, to the edge of the world… no matter what…”_

“… Thank you Jane…”

And with that he pressed on his keyboard the confirmation. The machine had activated. Jane then escorted Robert to the other room, where the chamber was. He was wondering if he should change his name, after all a christening is require something this momentous since it was basically him beginning a new life. Maybe name change and christening were the wrong terms, a title at least. Maybe something that sounds… strong, protective, a bit regal if possible. Something that will make people feel at home.  

 

 

 

 

It had taken many hours now, Veronica was getting bored sitting around a bunch of broken slot machine. But the elevator from behind woke her up. Both her and Arcade rushed to Solmund.

“So?” Arcade asked, “How was it? What did Mr. House wants?”

“You sure did took a heck of a long time, too.”

Sol didn’t answer right away, only smiled at them, which somewhat confused them. He said:

“Don’t worry guys, we’re just going to go fetch an item. It won’t be much trouble. We’ll get back to getting the medical supplies soon, I promise. But right now, it’s time to cash in the chips, because the House will ALWAYS wins…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're Nobody 'Till Somebody Loves You" - Song by Dean Martin


	28. Stories of the Past

**_34 years ago, Dry Wells…_ **

“Oh, Oscar, you’re back!”

“Dad!”

Oscar went to hug this old man. He was wearing what seemed to be tribal clothing, with an animal hide chest piece and a pair of shorts made out of bear skin. He also had the dreadlocks dressed similarly to the way Oscar wore around his head. His father, was surprisingly a lot leaner than him, with Oscar standing at least a few good inches over his head.

Oscar was soon surrounded by many of the tribe’s members. They all wore similar clothing to his father. It would seem that Oscar was the only one of them who was dressed in something other than a tribal clothing of simple and almost primitive animal hide. He was also surrounded by a lot of children, from the looks of it, they seemed to be fond of the big man. And the big smile on Oscar’s face was enough to show that off.

It was a small village, to the South East corner of Nevada if Solmund had to guess. There were a couple of tents around, but most notable was a large area where many of the larger members of the tribe gathered around to make weapons and armor. These included both long spears for close combat and spears for throwing. There were also a couple of big bludgeons, but swords, blades were rare amongst the weapon station. There were daggers and throwing knives sure, but nothing too out of the ordinary. This was most notable of this tribe, they were strong and they were very well armed, despite having no firearm whatsoever.

“Odysseus!” An older man approached Oscar, he was wearing a large white fur coat around his shoulders and his dreadlocks were a lot more intricate than other members around the tribe. If Sol had to guess then this would be the chieftain, or at least the tribe’s shaman of some sort. He was very old, there were also tribal markings on his face, red face paint under the eyes, white stripes on the cheeks, and so on.

“Odysseus,” the chief called and pulled him into a hug, “welcome back my boy, I hope your journey hasn’t been too rough. It has been so long, it’s so good to see you.”

“Well, sir,” Oscar said, “the lands were harsh like you said, so I had to travel a bit further, up north, into Wyoming.”

Everybody around the tribe started to gasp, they looked at him in awe.

“My boy,” the chief said, “… how… how could this be? Nobody had ever traveled that far.”

“Well, I had a little help.”

Then they all started to stare at Solmund with curious eyes, scanning up and down his body. It was as if they’d never seen anybody other than Oscar to be in such strange outsider’s clothing. Sol waved at them in an awkward manner, with a slight smile. The chief approached him slowly, but surprisingly, his eyes were not of watchful gazes, instead, it was… warm and welcoming.

The chief patted strongly onto his back, almost made him choked, the chief laughed magnificently:

“Welcome, traveler to our humble home. Let me be the one to say that your deeds in aiding our tribe, in aiding our Odysseus were deeds of greatness, and it shall be immortalized amongst our tribe, and for that we thank you.”

They… welcomed him. Now that was the first. Most tribes Solmund came across were either fanatic cults with strange taste in culture or a bunch of hostile raiders, angry and furious at anything that moved. But here, the soil it was… warm and fertile. The water was pure and fresh. The moon shone brightly, but their campfire was a fire that could not be easily extinguished. Solmund could feel it, the tribal men here, the way they moved around the village, the way they spoke, there were actual weight. It was about midnight at this point, Oscar had brought back to the village an entire barrel of meat and game which he hunted on the journey. He was carrying the barrel on his shoulders. There was enough meat to feed the tribe for at least two months. That was just borderline impressive. And in order to celebrate Oscar’s return and his immense victories over the wild of the land way in the far north, they burned the camp fire, cooked the meat, cleaned the large dishes and plates, the cook smeared spices over the food, and most importantly of all, they danced. Their dreadlocks burnt a beautiful shine that gleamed in the night surrounding them. For tonight, they were the most powerful tribe in Nevada.

They were celebrating nearly all night long. The food were very delicious, it was meat of mole rats, Brahmins steaks and yet cooked to such a degree that it resembled something Sol had only seen in old cooking advertisement he sometimes saw on the sides of old buildings. They had a strange taste to it, it was out of this world.

“Hey, um, thank you,” Sol said to Oscar and the chief who sat next to him, “thank you for having me here, it’s been an honor.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Oscar said, “we love having guests around here, don’t we?”

“Yes, indeed.” The chief replied and went on eating.

“Hey, Odysseus!” One of the men from the tribe called him, it seemed that Oscar had already known what he was calling him for. He wiped his mouth from the food and stood up.

“Hey, come with me,” Oscar said, “I have something to show you.”

Sol followed him back, Oscar said the man was the village’s blacksmith. The man was somewhat small, like a small rodent when standing next to Oscar, who stood like a tower over him.

“It’s finished,” the blacksmith said, he took them to the back of the village, it must be where they kept their storage, there was a bunch of junk around here, it was like a little scrap yard, “I finished it while you were gone, took a bit longer this time, but it should be pretty solid by now. Nothing a good little heat can’t fix. I’m surprised that you made your trip without it.”

“Well,” Oscar said, “when you’re out in the wasteland you can’t really be picky.”

“Right you are,” the blacksmith took out a large footlocker and unlocked it. Inside was a long golden staff with a small eagle statue on top. Sol recognized the staff, he saw it hung on the side of some of the old parliament buildings back west. Those were government buildings. Sol couldn’t believe his eyes, this was a flag pole.

Oscar picked up the pole to feel the weight in his palms. He then proceeded to swing it around in skillful vortex that Sol couldn’t even begin to imagine how to do. This man, Oscar, he was more than just a simple hunter. He was a fighter. No, a warrior! Oscar then forcefully slammed the pole to the ground, Solmund could feel the quake under his boots.

“Found this while I was exploring East,” Oscar said to Sol, “funny thing, I was out of bullets, I couldn’t find anything around me other than this thing here. And… I don’t know… I guess… it just stuck with me ever since. There’s a certain charm to it, certain… nostalgic feelings to it. You know what I’m saying?”

Sol knew exactly what he meant, Old World nostalgia. This was more than a weapon, it was a spirit.

“I called it Old Glory…” He told Sol, “Kinda had a nice ring to it… don’t you think?”

It was a little ridiculous, giving names to your weapon and feeling attached to it. After all, a weapon is a weapon, they didn’t carry that much weight… did it?

“I know,” Oscar then said, “I know that it’s ridiculous, but there’s just something about this baby here that just… that… I just couldn’t bear be separated from. I see you feel the same way, too. With your revolver.”

Oscar pointed at the holster by Sol’s hip. The Ranger Sequoia.

Sol then laughed:

“Well, I suppose it does. Reminds me of my old boys back with the Desert Rangers, Baja. Can’t say that we were too close with each other. But… they were the only people that I saw as… well… normal people, ya know. They don’t worry about nothin’, no politics mumbo jumbo, no having to worry about where to find shelter, none of that. They just… go with the flow… go with nature… they sit around drinking moonshines and singing Old songs without a worry in the world. One of the reasons why I kept the Sequoia, it’s a pure force of nature, nothing impure.”

Oscar laughed in his deep voice, Sol wasn’t sure if that was the laugh at the absurdity or if he was laughing because the two of them felt the same. Sol hoped that it was the latter.

The two of them sat there for a while longer while the rest of the tribe was still out there dancing around the campfire. Sol didn’t know what it was, but he was a lot more relaxed here, compared to the more restless times out there in the wasteland. They were suddenly approached by a large group of small children ranging from age five or six to some young teenagers. They were obviously glad to see Oscar back at their village, he was gone for an awful long time.

There were little ones running around the big man, then there was one that was shouting just out of pure joy, another one that jumped up and down up Oscar’s arm just pulling him up and down. With many shouting:

“Odysseus is back! Odysseus is back!” For a whole long minute. They formed a circle, simultaneously shouting:

“Tell us a story, Odysseus! Please, tell us a story.”

Oscar told Solmund that he’d been telling the children stories everyday when he got back from work. Apparently the children wouldn’t even go to sleep unless Oscar tells them a story. And that was including half the teenagers and even some adults.

“Ah, ha, okay, okay,” Oscar chuckled, “okay, calm down now…”

“Tell us about the one of the Wizard of Oss,” one of the younger child said.

“No, that one’s boring, tell us about Jack and the Beanstalk, please.”

“Okay, okay, just calm down alright?” Oscar said, “It’s getting late now, we don’t want to make too much of a ruckus. Now story… story… um… let’s see what we have here… um…”

Oscar looked around the area, more people started to come around and sat in a circle waiting for him to pick a story. Oscar looked around, trying to think of a story he hadn’t told already. He suddenly laid his eyes over to Solmund and an idea popped up.

“Hey, Sol,” he called, “why don’t you tell us a story?”

“Me? You’re serious?”

“Yeah, why not? You’ve been travelling far and long right? You must know some good tales?”

“Yeah, the thing is…”

But the children looked at him in these hopeful eyes. The people around the tribe were certainly curious of this man. They’d never seen a ranger in their life before. And they were now waiting for him… It would seemed that he had no choice. He just had to go with it, even if his story was terrible.

“Alright,” he said, “I don’t really do this, but I guess I’ll give it a try.”

He then looked at Oscar with a pair of eyes that said ‘ _Imma murder ya after this’._ But Oscar couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay… story… story… story… well… I know one story. I read it in a book once, probably nothing that interesting but…”

But regardless, the children looked at him anxiously. There was no turning back now. He gave a deep sigh and began:

“Once upon a time… um… back in the Back When times, no, even before the Back When times, hundreds of years before that. In this very land, the land that we used to call the United States of America, but believe it or not, back then, there was a time when it wasn’t united. It was a time of hardship and pain. Because back then, not everybody around was equal to one another. People were separated into class, and the worst part about it was that they were separated because of skin colors. And not only that, they were made into slaves!”

Some of the children gasped listening to the story, Sol continued:

“Yup, these were men that had origins from a land far, far away across the ocean itself. Their skins were a lot darker than the men of Old America. So with the power of an empire in their hands, the white Americans took these people in and used them as slaves. They took them in, stripped them of their clothes, put numbers and tags on them, sold them to customers and made them work on their old plantations. The old slavers were very cruel men. All this kept on going for another few decades… until one day… a very brave man stood up from the crowd. Now there’s been men before him who’d tried to stop the slave trade but to no avail. But this one man, with the will and determination of the true United States of America, called for the people, called for them to bring awareness of the situation. He was at the time running for the position of presidency over the country, they called him Abraham Lincoln. Now the slave traders, they are certainly not in favor of this man, they tried to oppose him. In fact, most of the southern part of America was opposed in his policies of freeing slaves. And just overnight, the whole nation was divided into two, the North, who wanted to free the slaves, and the South who wanted to keep them.”

There was suddenly a large shadow that emerged over from behind Solmund. They felt it, in the atmosphere, the overwhelming strength of darkness that scared the little children. But when Sol turned around, all he did was smile.

“Do you see this, children?” he asked, “That there is not my shadow… it is the shadow of an entire nation ready to fight and die to protect what is right. They followed a man into war, a war that they tried their best to avoid to no avail. This war, lasted long, it was hard fought. The leader of this war, a man, some called him a general, some called him a hero. We might never know because it was lost deep in history. But nevertheless, this hero, came to them, his name was Ulysses Grant.”

“Hey,” one of the little boys exclaimed, “that’s just like Mr. Grant,” they all looked over to Oscar and his father.

“Hey, quiet now,” another little girl nudged the boy, “I want to hear the story.”

“Hey, be nice okay?” Solmund said to the girl, “but he is not wrong,” Sol looked to Oscar, “the name Ulysses was actually the Latin name of Odysseus. Odysseus the legendary Greek hero. But anyway, back to the story… Ulysses Grant, a man with the determination of a war general and a heart of a hero was able to somehow bring the divided America together, a hero where under a time of harsh warfare fought to unite two opposing tribes under one flag. Bringing them together once more so that this land would be known as the United States of America once again.”


	29. Ring-a-Ding-Ding, Baby!

**_Present Days…_ **

“ _Woof woof!”_

 _“_ Well, this little fella’s name’s Mk. III Cyberhound, LEO Support Model, Serial number B955883, but people call him Rex for short,” Victor told them.

Solmund had no idea how any of that was short for Rex. The little guy was a cyber dog, Sol had never seen one like this before. He didn’t seem nearly as aggressive or as vicious as the wolf dogs with Old Lady Gibson back at Novac. He was actually a lot smaller than most hounds Sol had came across. Over half of its body was covered in metal and robot parts, even its brain was stored inside a glass dome placed on top of its head. Some robot parts Sol recognized, others seemed to be molded together in an unnatural way, as if someone tried to fix the guy but didn’t have the right parts on hand. He didn’t exactly look too impressive, to be completely honest.

But Veronica was certainly gleeful to meet the little guy, she had been going on and on about how adorable the little guy looked ever since Victor showed them the dog. Sol then took another look at him, he thought to himself: I guess he does seem a bit cute… a little bit… somewhat…

“Well,” Victor explained, “This guy’s nothin’ but a hound dog, the little guy belongs to the King, you know the King right? Ruler of Freeside or some sort like that. The King told us that the little boy was in pain, he brought him to the Followers of the Apocalypse to have them look at his specs, unfortunately Julie Farkas of the Followers told him that the only way to get Rex ol’ boy here fix up is to get him to Jacobstown, it’s a town up North, to the west. It used to be called Mt. Charleston I believe. The King wasn’t happy with the answer, and boy was he one mad donkey, started yellin’ everywhere. So Julie brought Rex ol’ boy in here to see if Mr. House could do anything about it.”

“Well? Can he?” Arcade asked Victor.

“He came to the same conclusion as Julie,” Victor said, “there’s a brain surgeon up in Jacobstown, Doc Henry he called himself, but what’s important is not the surgeon, but the brain sample. This ol’ boy’s brain is degrading, the neural gel used to be good enough to last a few hundred years, but hound brains are different than human’s you see, you can never tell.”

Sol noticed something peculiar, Arcade looked at Victor intensely when he mentioned Doc Henry’s name. He didn’t pay much attention to be honest but it was something small he noticed. Either that or he was imagining, his old man brain was really getting to him.

“The tragic thing about this is that nobody could really take lil' ol' Rex here up to Jacobstown,” Victor said, “Everybody’s so busy nowadays, poor boy.”

Sol looked at Victor, somehow knowing what was coming, he said:

“And… the reason why you showed us Rex is…”

“Look fellas,” Victor said, “I really don’t wanna put y’all together with this burden, but poor old Rex’s been suffering for so long, and the King's been pretty upset about it. He’d get mighty upset if he finds out that Rex hasn’t got long to live… that is unless of course he goes up the mountain. C’mon fellas, help us do this favor, for the King, for poor ol’ boy here, he’s in pain…”

Sol took another look at the poor animal, he didn’t seem to be the strongest animal he’d seen, heck, a molerat could probably tear this thing apart. But when Sol stared into its eyes, there was small spark. He wasn’t sure whether it was just part of his machinery, he wondered if it was worth his time… but then again… all living things deserved a chance to live, maybe it was just what Rex needed, a chance. Nothing more, nothing less…

 

 

 

 

_“TO THE TOWN OF AGUA FRIA RODE A STRANGER ONE FINE DAY...”_

You could hear it, footsteps, each step heavier than the last. The floor, paved in beautiful tiles made out of stones that were dug from the center of the earth.

“ _IT WAS EARLY IN THE MORNING WHEN HE RODE INTO THE TOWN...”_

_Welcome to the Tops baby, finest entertainment on the Strip, you here to have a good time? We bring the good time._

_“MANY MEN HAD TRIED TO TAKE HIM AND THAT MANY MEN WERE DEAD...”_

_Um, baby, I’m going to have to take your weapons away. Don’t worry, I’ll give them back to ya later. We_ _don’t want our patrons having to stare at you all the way now do we?_

_“WAS AN ARIZONA RANGER WOULDN'T BE TOO LONG IN TOWN...”_

_What do you mean you can’t part with your guns? Wait... what? Business with the boss? I don’t know ‘bout that, he’s kinda busy... wait... what? Come again?_

_“TWENTY MEN HAD TRIED TO TAKE HIM TWENTY MEN HAD MADE A SLIP...”_

_Wait... you... a courier? You mean... no... that can’t be... he wouldn’t do that? I mean, yeah sure he goes outta town sometimes, some days longer than others but still..._

_“FOLKS WERE WATCHING FROM THE WINDOWS EVERY-BODY HELD THEIR BREATH...”_

_Yeah that’s the boss’s lighter alright, got his custom engraving on there, no mistake about it. I don’t know, I mean, he’s right there in the casino but I don’t want to cause no trouble..._

_“AND THE RANGER'S AIM WAS DEADLY WITH THE BIG IRON ON HIS HIP...”_

_Alright, fine, tell you what I’ll go tell my boys to go block off all the exits in case things get nasty and he tries to run, I’ll try get everybody outside but that’s all I can do... good luck..._

_“WHEN HE TRIED TO MATCH THE RANGER WITH THE BIG IRON ON HIS HIP...”_

You could hear the boots, the breath, the lingering thoughts, the roulette tables suddenly stopped, slot machines ceased to be functional... the moment he turned around...

“... _BIG IRON ON HIS HIP...”_

 _“OH BENNY BOY!”_ Man screamed, time stopped, debt paid.

He stood there, stunned... There was nothing in this world that could possibly explain what had happened before his eyes. Not even if he had a million years to live and all the text books in the world could he even come close to understand the transcendent knowledge required to process what he was seeing. This was not just an event, this was a force of nature, something had been amiss from the balance of time and space, and the old man was standing right before the city boy, smiling under his black hat. There Benny tasted the wasteland, the sandstorms in his mouth, the lone cactus, the scorpions with their rough stings, even the monstrosities made from nuclear devastation.

“So...” Sol said, he took one of his medicinal cigarettes out of his duster, lit up with Benny’s lighter right in front of his face, “Here I am...” he blew a ring of smoke towards the city boy.

“You...” Benny stuttered, “you... you’re supposed...”

“Supposed to be dead, yeah, yeah, I got it. I get that a lot. You know you should’ve paid attention to the radio announcement, Mr. New Vegas has an awful lot of things to say about... some of which were about me.”

“Wha... what do you want?”

“You know what I want... the Chip... we have much to discuss.”

 

 

 

 

“You don’t have to do this...”

“You have no right in telling me what I can and cannot do.”

They went up to the presidential suite of the Tops Casino. Apparently Benny said that Sol was welcome to use the suite as his personal room. It had everything, from a pool table, a bar with rows and rows of whiskey and tequila. There was also a safe on the wall. The bedroom was in the back along with a small kitchen, just the usual stuff, the oven, the stove, so on. But Sol knew better that Benny was going to pull something, there was no way he’d just willingly go up here without any of his bodyguards.

“So what’re you gonna do baby?” Benny asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

Sol kept the cigarette in his mouth, not answering. He took a deep breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke from his breath, then said:

“No... why would I kill you?”

“But... wait, what? ... But... but I shot you... twice... aren’t you at least mad?”

“Nah...” he told Benny in the most casual way possible, Sol began to smile, Benny was confused, “Let me tell ya something... do you know who I am?”

“You’re what they might call Not-At-Home’s little errand boy. Aren’t you? You're here... that must mean the old fart behind that casino sent you,” Benny said, “I've been hearing rumors you know? You some kind of cowboy ranger who just walk down the Strip like this place is your throne room and just casually approach the Lucky 38 like somebody left a key under the rug for ya. Ain't that right? Is that who you are?”

But Sol only laughed:

“Hah... I am old... very old... at least older than most folks around here. I traveled the wasteland for so long I know the placement of every single speck of dust or pebble in the wasteland... I’ve traveled for so long that... It kinda felt... like a burden, I know it's absurd, but it's true. Well... at least until you came in... shot me in the head... twice. And by some god’s work of miracle, I somehow survived. Heh... it’s kinda funny actually, when you hear stories about ghost who haunts people, trying to clear up their unfinished business. Maybe that’s what I am... a ghost... a phantom, a specter, with some godforsaken unfinished business that I can’t for the life of me remember what it was... I suppose... I suppose that I should thank you.”

“Thank me?” Benny said, even more confused, “Are you alright in the head? Did my bullet do something to ya?”

“I’m not joking, for a very long time, I felt a burden, a feeling deep in here,” Sol gestured to his guts, “It never left me, I felt... useless... in pain... and confused ever since the feeling came to be. Maybe it was boredom. Boredom of how the wasteland had nothing to offer me anymore. Maybe it was exhaustion, since I’d been travelling for so long. Whatever it was it seemed to have disappeared ever since you shot me... kinda made me feel that this rebirth wasn’t so bad after all. A new life.”

The two of them stood there, staring at each other for a while longer. Benny stood frozen, not knowing how to respond to this. Sol couldn’t help but smile at him.  

“Maybe...” Sol said, “Maybe helping Mr. House ain’t gonna be so bad after all. Because to be honest... I like Vegas... It felt like home to me... it was like as if I never even left and that this place WAS my home in the first place.”

Benny took a step back, fiddling with his right pocket which Sol assumed was where he kept the Chip.

“Now,” Benny said, “let’s be reasonable about this. You don’t want to give this Chip to that Not-At-Home fella, he doesn’t what he’s doing with it. This Chip has powers beyond your comprehension, beyond your imagination. This Chip has the power to create an entire empire. Help me rebuild Vegas and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while, honest to God. As a matter of fact, I’ve already had everything planned out, I might look like sloppy mess but I know how to do this, trust me! Look, I'll even show you my plans... it's here somewhere... oh shoot... I left them files back in my room, just wait for me to go get it, I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And with that, Benny charged for the elevator and went straight down. Solmund knew it was all bullshit, but he let him ran. Because Benny will know soon enough, a good dictatorship, a genuine empire cannot be run by a single mortal, you’d have to be a god to do something like that. But we were no gods, we were only mortals.

A few minutes later the elevator came back up with a car filled at least five men dressed in white, in their hands a submachine gun each, Solmund sighed, disappointed with Benny's futile efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Big Iron" - Song by Marty Robbins


	30. Viva New Vegas

It had been two days since Benny stormed off the New Vegas Strip with the Platinum Chip. Mr. House didn’t mind too much, though. He had already knew that Benny would pull something like this. He said that the little rapscallion skedaddled off to a place called Fortification Hill across the Colorado River, just a few miles off to the east of Hoover Dam. It just so happened that the Fort was the main camp of Caesar’s Legion. And under the Hill was an old vault that belonged to Mr. House back before the war. What a damn coincidence. Benny went off there to the Fort since the vault was the place which contained nearly a hundred thousand Securitrons. He wanted to wake them up with the Chip, since it was an army that could very easily rival the size of both the Republic and the Legion, two of the largest armies in the West.

It was pretty obvious that Mr. House didn’t want Benny to be in charge of such army. But he doubted that Benny could actually pull it off, with Caesar’s Legion sitting right on top of the vault and all. And apparently Mr. House wasn’t the only one who wanted a piece of the action.

One day after Benny ran off to the Fort, a dark shady man approached Sol on the steps of the Lucky 38. He wore a dark shiny suit with a fedora on top. Sol recognized the man. He was Vulpes Inculta, the Frumentarius of Caesar’s Legion. And apparently Arcade also recognized Vulpes, remarking that he was one of the Legion’s deadliest spies. Vulpes wasn’t hostile towards them, though. Instead he gave Sol a pendant with a golden piece of Legion Aureus attached. He said that it was the Mark of Caesar, it was an invitation from Caesar himself to come to the Fort, the Mark would provide safe travels across the Mojave to the Fortification Hill.

“We will be expecting your arrival within three days,” Vulpes warned, “that should be enough time for you to travel from here to Fortification Hill. I suggest you prepare for your travel immediately. If we do not see your presence within three days… then I expect you not to be surprise when our Legionaries come after you. And I’m afraid that staying within the walls of Vegas won’t do you any good either. We have eyes everywhere… where we have eyes, we also have assassins, so beware… beware the wrath of Caesar…”

That was his last words before he disappeared into the shadows. Arcade said that he had a bad feeling about it, claiming that it was some kind of trap. Sol himself didn’t really know what to do. Although, it might not be wise to anger Caesar, since Sol wasn’t sure if he could take on the Legion’s assassins. They were very formidable warriors.

Sol and Arcade spent the rest of the day gathering medical supplies for the Followers back at the Old Mormon Fort. Mr. House had cut a deal with them. In exchange for the supplies, he demanded that the Followers are to assist Mr. House in their medical prowess when the needs arise. He even made a contract that stated how long they’d have to ‘ _assist’_ Mr. House in exchange for the supplies. As far as Sol was concerned, Julie Farkas didn’t seem like the kind of person that would turn down the offer. That said, most folks around here would probably think otherwise, even Arcade. They would think that this was some kind of con. They'd never trusted House, since he was supposedly viewed as a crook who tricked people out of their properties like some kind of evil business man. But last Sol checked, the only people around here who did that kind of things were the few corrupted bureaucrats in the New California Republic.

Mr. House said that Solmund could have as many mercenaries on his team as possible for the mission to Fortification Hill. Since he admitted that any problem concerning Caesar’s Legion would be a tough one to chew.

Sol invited Boone, Cass, Raul and ED-E from the Mormon Fort to the Presidential suite of the Lucky 38. Boone said himself that he wasn't too fond with crowded places like the Vegas Strip, and he wasn't too familiar with luxuries like the Lucky 38 either. But nevertheless, he slept on the bed of the suite so soundly, it was as if he was resting on cloud nine. He’d never admit it, but he definitely enjoyed staying here. The refrigerator was stocked with countless pieces of Brahmin steaks, on the top cupboard were nearly twenty bottles of whiskey. And they didn’t have to worry about laundry either. Believe it or not, the Lucky 38 used to be the largest hotel on the Strip, it could hold at least 3000 people, the services were fantastic, the Securitrons did most of the work around here nowadays. But since the Lucky 38 was still closed most of the time, there was not much work to begin with.

The guys really spent a lot of time around the suite, they’d really gotten to know each other. Boone and Arcade were really getting along. They talked for most of the evening about things like the NCR and Legion. Both of them had a mutual disagreement towards Legion’s… philosophies. Arcade also talked about his discontent towards Mr. House, ignoring the fact that they were in the Lucky 38 and he could be watching them at any moment.

ED-E had been running away from Rex the whole day, Rex really didn’t like robots much, and despite that Rex didn’t seem to be chasing him out of malice, instead he treated ED-E like chew toy of sort. ED-E’s little squeals were so freaking adorable.

Veronica, Cass and Raul hung around the place, the two of them really got to know more about Raul’s sarcastic nature, now they understood what a pain in the butt he really was.

“I’ve always wanted to be an actor when I was a girl,” said Veronica.

“Don’t you mean an actress?” Cass asked.

“Nah, nah, an actor, ya know how back in the old days, the men used to play both male _and_ female parts in a play on stage. So I thought, why not try to play a guy for a change.”

“Right,” said Raul, “so I suppose you won’t be needing your beautiful dress anymore, I’ll just take it, change my name to Marilyn and stand on the top of the Lucky 38, it’s pretty windy up there, so I might attract a lady or two.”

“Jesus Christ, Raul, just... stop!” Cass facepalmed, "The last thing I need is an image of a disgusting old ghoul wearing a revealing dress like this one… oh god… no… dear god, no…  _get it out of my head!"_  The three of them roared in laughter. Veronica held on her little dress like it was her treasure, horrified at the thought of handing it over to Raul.

“By the way,” Cass asked, “where’d you get the dress anyway?”

“Huh? Oh, Sol gave it to me, he said that it was from the store room under the Lucky 38, there’s a pile of old clothes, I think they were for the other casino folks, he found one from the Ultra-Luxe casino and ya know… just gave it to me. Although I think that he just did it so that I would keep quiet and stop nagging him about a dress.”

“You never know honey,” Cass said, a little suggestive, “who knows, for all we know he might’ve given it to you because he got a little crush on yer.”

“NO!” Veronica cried, blushing a little bit, “What in the actual hell, Cass? Sol’s not that kind of guy, never, and besides, I already told him that I like to hang around the ladies. So he already got the message loud and clear."

“Oh? Do tell, do tell, I am intrigued about this… lady friend of yours," said Cass.

“Well, I met her back in the Brotherhood, but… things just didn’t work out, ya know… I don’t really want to talk about it, let’s change subject…”

“Sure thing honey, whatever you say.”

 

 

 

 

Cass wanted to go down to the other Casinos for dinner, apparently the food at the Lucky 38 just wasn’t ‘ _her taste’._ Whatever the hell that meant. Boone didn’t want to come, though. He said that he didn’t like crowds. So he stayed behind with ED-E and Rex. Since Solmund already had a suite of his own at the Tops Casino, they decided to go there for the night.

People said that there were three main casino families on the Strip: the Gomorrah, the place for cheap sex, booze and cigarettes. It was also where people would find most of the chems. They also got the strongest of all the mafia bosses around the block, Nero and his right hand man Big Sal along with the Omertas were the most powerful mafia family on the Strip.

Then there was the Tops, this place was much friendlier than them folks of the Gomorrah. This was where the cool kids would hang, the hip and the fun people. It was the classic Vegas experience, good booze, great roulette tables and of course the best entertainment. You want to hear some groovy music? This was where you get the full experience. The songs that played on the radio were nothing compared to the folks at the Tops.

And last but not least, the Ultra-Luxe, only the finest, the fanciest, the most high class folks would have the luxuries to dine at such a place. The casino might as well be made out of gold, the Ultra-Luxe was no doubt Mr. House's favorite casino out of the three. Word on the street was that the steak there was top notch in terms of quality, once you eat it, every steak that came afterward will only play second fiddle to the Ultra-Luxe’s.

They arrived at the Tops and decided to head upstairs to the Aces Theater, it was nearly 8 pm, the show was about to start.

They walked through the door and was immediately greeted by a man with an eye patch and a mustache. He wore a white suit, Sol guessed that he must've been an employee of sort.

“Oh, ring-a-ding-ding, baby,” he called towards them, “Cassidy, baby, yer back. I’ve been waiting for ya.”

“Ha-ha, good to see ya again, Tommy,” she said as they went in for a hug. This threw Sol way off guard.

“Wait,” said Arcade, “you two know each other?”

“Yeah,” Cass replied, “I used to come here all the time to play with the band, I play the double bass. The perks were pretty awesome to be honest. They gave me free booze, what’s not to love?”

“Yeah and the clean up afterwards was always a pain,” Tommy said cheerfully, but his tone suddenly shifted in an instant, “listen Cass, baby. I need a favor. Do you think you could play the bass for us tonight? My usual band can’t perform today, well most of them anyway, they got food poisoning or something. I’m really short on players here, it’d be really great if you could…”

“Sorry, Tommy,” Cass cut him off, “I can’t, I don’t do that no more.”

“Please, I beg you, honey, I’m really short on players tonight, and if we don’t perform, these folks here are going to give us hell. They'll rip our heads off! It's not gonna pretty I tell ya.”

“Sorry, Tommy, I just can’t. You said that your band can’t perform, right? Well, I’m just one person, how am I supposed to play? Even if I wanted to, I just can’t.”

Tommy suddenly turned his attention towards Sol and the rest of the gang. He said:

“Do any of you gentlemen know how to play an instrument? We need a drummer and a pianist.”

“Look buddy,” Raul said, “the only instrument I can play is the trash can, and even then…”

“Yeah, ditto… same here,” Veronica agreed, "honestly I can't play any of those things even if my life depended on it."

But something suddenly stirred within Sol’s heart. He didn’t know what it was, but it was suddenly familiar. So familiar that he could’ve sworn that it happened yesterday. He could hear the echoes… the echoes of the past. He could hear it, the surroundings… they were suddenly more… rustic. He could remember something, a lifetime ago… the sound of the saxophone…

Solmund suddenly said out of instinct:

“I… I can… play…”

“Really?” Tommy squealed, he almost cried.

"Yeah… I can play the drums… I guess."

Then suddenly, a miracle happened.

“Yeah, I can play, too, the piano I mean.” Arcade said. Sol was surprise, he never knew that about good ol’ Arcade. At that point Tommy was so happy that he could climb up a mountain and scream at the top of his lungs.

“That’s wonderful, wonderful, absolutely delightful!” Tommy cried, “That’s really all I need for tonight, if you can pull it off then know that you have my eternal gratitude. How about it, Cass? You in or what?”

“Uh…” said Cass, a bit unsure at first, “you know what… what the hell, I think I still got some juice left in me. Alright count me in.”

“Oh, yeah, baby, now that’s what I’m talkin' about, oh shoot, it’s time to perform, you better get up stage now. Good luck.”

And with that the three of them were pushed onto a stage with this brilliant heavenly light shining onto them. Raul and Veronica quickly took a seat. But the worst part of it all wasn’t the lights, it was the gaze of them people. They were watching, they didn’t blink, and they didn’t turn away. On stage there were also two other musician with a trumpet and a trombone.

“ _Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to tonight’s entertainment acts of the Aces Theater of the Tops Casino. I hope that you’ve been having a good time with us throughout the weekend. We’re always bringing in new acts once in a short while, so please do stick around and check out the show. Now I know, y’all been waiting for the band to play all afternoon, and I promise you that they will play, just not tonight. How ‘bout instead, we get a taste of these new talented lady and gentlemen here to play us something groovy, alright? Give ‘em a round of applause, folks…”_

Some of them clapped to the band, but the only sound that Sol could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. What was this feeling? Was this anxiety? No it couldn’t be. He’d definitely felt this before, but he didn’t know where or when. He could still hear the lingering sound of the sax in his ears, he wondered what it all meant. He had never performed before an audience this big before, or at the very least he could not remember if he had ever performed or not. Not after the bullet in the head incident that was for sure.

But for some reason, when Sol looked at Arcade and Cass… his anxiety were suddenly gone. Both of them smiled at him. They were bright smiles, but more importantly, they were genuine. What was this feeling? He wondered. He felt as if their emotions were all synchronized that night.

Sol sat down into his set of drums. It fitted like a glove. He stared at the drum set and his sticks for a good long minute. It was then that he suddenly realized that they weren’t given a sheet to perform. They were absolutely screwed. Sol didn’t know what to play, he set foot onto the pedals but his heart was like a line of fog. He couldn’t make out any of it… and yet… he saw Arcade and Cass, still smiling…

They were all waiting for him… all of them… but they weren’t waiting for him to start playing, no… they were waiting for him get ready…

Arcade began to tap on the keys of the piano. It wasn’t even a tap… it was gentle, and soft… but most important of all was that… Sol recognized the tune. It was pure, it soared through the air like a jet fighter and yet as gentle as an angel. He never knew where but he’d heard it before.

Solmund joined in on the drums shortly after that… _of course_ , how could he forget this song? “Moanin’” by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. It was an old song, really old. It was back before the Great War. He tapped the drumsticks onto the cymbals, the sound of metal cleared through the air. It was the sound that never left his mind, and yet was never there in his heart to begin with. He had wondered that where he had learnt how to play the drums. He remembered his pa, maybe he was the one who taught him. But Sol didn’t remember anything like that back in his old ranch. But then again, he didn’t remember much of his old home anyway. Especially after he was ‘ _reborn_ ’ into the world by Benny.

And yet… they played that night… the songs, the music… they played all night long, Tommy didn’t even bother telling them that there were comedians, singers backstage waiting for their turn. No…

Sol saw Cass flicking her fingers at the bass, it was beautiful, and she wasn’t drunk, at least not while playing. Her fingers… they were like snakes crawling on top of an old oak tree that stood as a pillar on the earth for a thousand years, firm and powerful.

He then heard Arcade raining his fingers down the keys, the sound, it was like a billion drops of rain into a clear pond. But the sound wasn’t of a ruckus. No, it was like small ants crawling on a green leaf of a tree, the kind of tree that Sol didn’t think existed anymore…

But most importantly… he heard the sax… there was no sax player, but still… he felt the presence of that lingering sound…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Moanin'" - Song by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers


	31. Strange Sound

They packed their bags the night after the show at the Aces Theater. All of them stayed quiet after the show. Boone didn’t ask them how the show was, because he saw the expression on their faces and he knew that they didn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe they did, but they just didn’t know how.

Veronica walked out of that theater stunned. That show sent chills down her spine. She took one look at Solmund, Arcade and Cass. She saw something in them. A lingering spirit perhaps. She wasn’t sure. She looked up the stars that night to see if the stars were aligned in some way. Sadly… she forgot everything about the constellation, kept telling herself that if only she’d paid attention in class back at the Hidden Valley bunker.

Was Cass right about her feelings for Sol? They were good friends alright. But… something about Sol just didn't seem right. He was technically old, but the way he acted… it was like he still had at least twenty years worth of energy left to burn. It felt as if… he was missing something. He knew it, too. He was incomplete. The wasteland sure did change people's views on the world, especially when you compare it to the Old World. The way he laughed, the way he smiled… and when he played on that stage, they were transported to another world that they'd never seen before… it was… as if… he’d sold his soul to the Devil or something… maybe…

They all left Vegas in the morning, none of them said goodbye, though. Because they knew they’d be coming back.

All of them thought that they were going to the Fortification Hill; both Arcade and Boone were about to object until Sol told them that he picked up a radio signal on his Pip-Boy.

The signal was weak, but it was an Old voice, a voice from the Old World, a voice of the sand, of legends. And it echoed as they walked.

_“HAS... YO... UR LIFE TA...KEN A TURN? D...O TROU...BLES BESET... YOU? HAS FOR...TUNE LEFT... YOU BEHIND...? IF... SO, THE SIE...RRA MA...DRE CA...SI...NO, IN ALL... ITS GL...ORY, IS IN...VI...TING YOU... TO... BEGIN... AGAIN.”_


	32. City of Legends

_YOU’VE ALL HEARD OF IT… THEY’RE STORIES OF LEGENDS OF MYTHS… MYTHS OF ONE OF THE REMAINING OLD WORLD ARTIFACTS THAT SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR. IT WAS BUILT BEFORE THE WAR, A TOWER OF GOLD AND LIGHTS WHERE MASSIVE FORTUNES COULD BE GAINED AND LOST..._ _A MONUMENT OF WEALTH. NO ONE KNOWS WHERE IT IS. SOME CLAIMED TO HAVE SEEN IT. BUT ALL THOSE WHO CLAIMED SUCH FEAT HAVE LOST THEIR MINDS LONG AGO. MOST FOLKS CALL IT A HOAX. THERE’S NO WAY A STRUCTURE THAT HUGE COULD’VE GONE BY UNNOTICED... AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT THEY SAY. MANY PEOPLE HAVE TRIED TO SEARCH FOR THAT GODFORSAKEN PLACE. SOME GAVE UP MIDWAY AFTER A FEW MONTHS, SOME GAVE UP AFTER A FEW WEEKS, SOME SPENT AN ENTIRE LIFETIME TRYING TO UNEARTH THIS GREAT TREASURE OF THE PAST. ALL OF THEM HOWEVER ENDED UP WITH THE SAME FATE... LED AWAY FROM THE MOJAVE BY A SOOTHING VOICE ON THE RADIO – NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN..._

_“_ Ah... the Sierra Madre... a beauty isn’t she? You heard the call, too, I assume.”

He was a ghoul, very similar to how Raul looked. His voice wasn’t hoarse like most ghouls, though. He wore a tuxedo that Sol was surprised made it this far after the bombs dropped. He also wore a red bowtie and a pair of shades. And around his neck... of course...

“You should consider yourself lucky. Least, you're still breathing. Most folks who came here ended up breathing in the air, they, uh... let's just say they didn’t really make it,” he then paused for a while and scanned up Sol’s physique. He didn’t seem to be too impressed. After all, all Sol had on him was a knife and a white jumpsuit.

The ghoul continued:

“Well? What’s the case this time? You’re here for the treasure of the Sierra Madre, too? Or did you just happen to stumble upon this place by chance? ... Highly unlikely if I do say so myself.”

“No... I heard the call...” Sol said, “But I’m not here for the treasure.”

“Oh?” The ghoul looked at him, “Now that’s a first.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that we’re acquainted yet.”

“Ah, yes, silly me, name’s Dean Domino.”

“Dean Domino? As in _the_ Dean Domino the singer?”

“Hah,” he chuckled, “the one and only.”

“Holy crap... I used to listen to a couple of your songs when I was a little kid. There was a pile of old holodisks, but there was nothing to play it with. So I had to make my own player out of a bunch of scrap. Oh by the way, my name’s Solmund, you can call me Sol.”

“Strange name I have to say.”

“Well, it’s my given name, what’re you going to do about it?”

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here, though,” Dean took another look at his physique, “a man like you should’ve been broken like twig at this point.”

“Does it matter? The Old man at the fountain chose me,” Dean grimaced at the mention of the Old man, Sol continued, “you see... I have a beef with the old bastard.”

“Don’t we all?” Dean said, “The collars... they’re... proven to be quite troublesome. Let me guess, the old fart told you to go find three other people with the little metal bowtie, right?”

“Yeah,” Sol replied, “how’d you know?”

“I rigged the radio here to pick up the signals emitted from the fountain, I heard the old fart.”

“Yeah well, in that case can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know if there's any... other people here at the Madre other than the three the Old man told me to go find?” Sol asked.

“Other people? Buddy, as far as I’m concerned this is a heist. Bringing in any more than say... ten people then it’s not a heist anymore isn’t it? We all want to keep it low-key here, I’m afraid the four of us – not including the Old man – are all there is. Why do you ask?”

“That old son of a bitch took my friends. They all came here with me but when I woke up they’re nowhere to be seen. The Old man wouldn’t tell me anything either, all he talked about was how he wanted me to gather three other people, that's it... so that’s why I’m here, that's the reason... I’m here to get them back.”

“Sounds like the old fart alright. Word is that the old fart gathers people around here for his little heist of the Sierra Madre. Only god knows how long he’s been at it.”

“Do you have any idea where he might’ve taken them?”

Dean shook his head:

“No... but it’s likely that the old fart is thinking of a backup plan in case _our_ heist failed his expectation. I’m willing to bet that he’s going to just keep sending in lab rats until one of them succeeds in getting what he wants out of the Sierra Madre. He must be keeping spare bodies around here somewhere. You’re friends are likely just unconscious, maybe drugged, knocked out, who knows. But what's important here is that he would never kill them, no, he needs them alive. So don’t worry about it. You find that old son of a bitch, you find your friends. What you _should_ be worried about, however, is how to get out of this pickle... how d’you like your chair? Comfortable, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t get much cushions out there in the wasteland. It’s rare to see a good set of chairs or a couch even. But it’s even rarer when that chair has an explosive shaped charge hidden underneath.”

“Congratulation, we have a winner,” Dean grinned, “you’ve done your fair share of blowing up banks and railroads during your life I assume... ha, I kid. I knew Bonnie and Clyde, and even they’re not as crazy... I kid again... but still...”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I might be a gambling man... but I can’t always leave things to chance,” Dean said, “so... I think you can figure out at this point what I want, right?”

“You want... to be the head of this operation, I assume. The operation to turn on the Old man when he’s not looking and give him a huge slap to the face when the opportunity comes. To teach the old bastard a lesson of not putting bomb collars on people’s neck, am I right?”

“Hah,” Dean smiled, “looks like I've hit a jackpot! With your level of intellect this should be done in no time at all. So what do you say? You in or what?”

“Not much of a choice now, isn’t it?” Sol sighed, “Fine, I’m in, better to be with you than against you. Especially in a place like this.”

“Good, good!” Dean exclaimed, “Welcome aboard... partner.”


	33. City of Myths

Sol hadn’t noticed how dark and gloomy the place seemed until now. When he woke up, the only light that was around for miles were the two holograms at fountain. The hologram of the old fart and of another lady which Dean recognized. The darkness really got to Sol. His heart had been pumping in black blood, blurring his vision. He glared all around, the stones, the bricks that held up this place, it was old and it was howling in pain. He wobbled on his feet as if he'd lost control of all his body parts. His feet tasting the dirt of this strange soil and sand that whispered of dark desires.

He smelt the air, it was sickening. It was as if he’d been living next to a construction site all his life, the rubble, the tasteless sand. But the air was evil, he could tell. Especially when you were out in the open like here in the Villa. They whispered things into your ears, thoughts of pain, of death, rebirth in this alien realm. Sol felt powerless here in the Sierra Madre. Whatever feeling of power and dominion he felt he had over the Mojave Wasteland, none of that was present here, he had no power over this place.

“Be careful,” Dean told him, “or else the Madre will turn you mad. Let Vera be your guide,” Dean referred to the hologram at the fountain.

Sol and Dean had done what the Old man told them to do. Gathering the team was a chore, but they made it.

The first was a Nightkin who called himself Dog. He was a hulking beast, larger than a lot of other Nightkins and Super Mutants from across the wasteland. His teeth were filled with pieces of flesh leftover from his earlier meals. On his chest was a flesh carving of his own name, Dog, as if to remind himself in the mirror in case he forgets. His body was full of scars and flesh wounds, most noticeably was his left arm, consumed by a huge bear trap. It was pain, it was blood, but it was still alive. But the most important thing was that Dog was a monster, Elijah’s monster.

He had two voices. They too were awakened by two voices: the voice of the Old man, and another voice buried deep in madness.

The first, the one called Dog spoke in simple terms. He was simple, like a caveman. His words and thoughts were barely developed. But Solmund felt the rumbling growl of his stomach. The growl of flesh, blood… food. He was hungry, he was always hungry. He even ate his own bomb collar, one bite – swallowed whole. Sol could even see the small stitches clumsily tied over the scars on his cheeks, what was once flesh and blood was now a dried layer of skin, like a piece of land full of drought.

The other voice, he called himself God. One with who called himself such was bound to be arrogant, though he was surprisingly intelligent, much more intelligent than most Nightkins in fact, and definitely smarter than Dog. His voice was calmer, not clumsy, it had class. But at the same time it was also vicious and a lot more sinister. He even threatened to crush Sol’s skull if he favored Dog over himself. Sol wasn’t sure if he could trust this so called God yet.

Dog (or God?) was found locked in a prison cell at the Villa’s police station. The place was just a rusted bunch of metal left to rot by time. The prison cell that held Dog was big, empty, it had no soul and yet it was full of pain. The growling of hunger and desire blanketed the whole cell. What sin was committed in order to get this kind of punishment, Sol wondered.

Perhaps this was Prometheus’s incarnation of this world. He once stole the fire of the heavens and was condemned to eternal suffering, feeling the pain of being devoured by a bird. A bird that would forever eat away at his guts for he was cursed to regenerate sooner or later. Eternal – pain.

Solmund and Dean also found a woman while they were looking around the Villa’s clinic areas. She was trapped inside of an Auto-Doc (a machine made for surgeries) but it was evident that this Auto-Doc was very much faulty. There were so many cuts and stitches spreading all over her face that Sol had a difficult time making out her face at first. On the top left corner of her shirt was a serial code and a name – Christine.

She did not speak, in fact, she couldn’t speak; a mute. She looked confused… and angry. She seemed to have lost her bearings ever since she escaped the clinic. Everything was trembling around her. The ground shaking in whirlpools beneath her weak knees. Sol had a difficult time trying to understand her hand signals and facial expression at first. She became very frustrated. It would seemed that she had trouble finding the right action to express herself, none of it seemed to work.

Sol had wondered what the Old man actually saw in all of them. A girl who couldn’t speak, a Mutant with two souls and an old singer who couldn’t stand on his crumbling legs for more than two minutes.

“Right,” Elijah said at the fountain, “now that we’re all here, we move onto the next part of the plan. We trigger the Gala Event and in turns trigger the Sierra Madre’s grand opening, the grand opening that never happened… until now.”

“So,” Sol said, looking up the hologram, “what do we do now?”

“You will need to take each member of your team to three different locations throughout the Villa, each of them will have a task to perform in order to activate the grand opening. More specifically these locations are the switching stations of Salida del Sol and Puesta del Sol, and the rooftop of Puesta del Sol south buildings. I’m sending you more details through to your Pip-Boy, it has specific instructions for each of you on what to do once you get to your position. Also one more thing, don’t even try to intercept my radio signals and track me down, I’ll find you if you do… besides, it’s encrypted, you can’t possibly break through the encryption.”

Although Sol had lost a bit grace without his usual gear, armor and guns, what he still had with him was his mind. Elijah had greatly underestimated him, just like Dean did. They might've known that Sol had a Pip-Boy on him, but what they didn’t know was that his Pip-Boy was a custom model. He improved it himself with scraps and junk he found across the wasteland. He made it more resilient, more encrypted and its radio wave range stretched even further than the original model. If Elijah was anywhere in the Madre, the Pip-Boy would no doubt pick up his signal, and he wouldn’t even know about it. To Elijah, it would just be as if the Cloud was interfering with the signal.

“Now go,” Elijah ordered, “the Sierra Madre’s grand opening awaits.”

Just enough time for the Pip-Boy to scan the entire place. But alas, when Sol looked at his Pip-Boy’s map, the scanner didn’t find any signal coming from the Madre or the Villa. That must've meant only one thing – the Old man was not in the Madre, he was outside somewhere. Damn old bastard.

“Right, chief,” Dean Domino said, “what’s the next plan of action?”

“I’ll look up the details here on the instructions, we’ll go together as group to these places then drop off one at a time. I don’t want to split up, it’s too dangerous.”

“Right, then in that case,” Dean then suddenly leaned in, “can I talk to you… in private?”

Sol glanced at Christine and Dog who both stared at him. He signaled them to stay right there. They didn’t seem to object. Dean then dragged Solmund to a corner.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, “What’s the stakes here?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s going to be dangerous, though.”

“I don’t think that I can trust silent girl and puppy face over there,” Dean said, “there’s something not right about them that I can’t put my finger on it.”

“You think so? C’mon, Dog is as obedient as a slave, what could he possibly do? And Christine? She’s just the same as the rest of us, we’re all in this together, remember? If one of them die, we die.”

“I’m just saying… there’s something not right, I can feel it in my guts.”

“We’ll go together,” Sol said, reassuring him, “that way we can all keep an eye on them, satisfied?”

“I’m just being cautious, okay? The place is pretty dangerous, the Mutant, I’m fine with. It’s the girl that I’m worried about. She doesn’t seem like she could fight off the… _locals_ around here.”

Ah, yes, the locals. Sol and Dean actually met one of them while they were making their way back to the fountain. Sol had wondered: are they dead? Are they really alive? What are they exactly? There didn’t seem to be an answer and yet questions kept arising, popping into his head. They all wore gas masks with green lenses, their body suits were ripped and seemed to be sewn right into their flesh. Some of them had spears, some had bear traps for fists. But either way, they felt no pain, and yet they howled like animals. They could see nothing through their masks but the Cloud, and yet they could tell exactly where everything was. Their hearts… not a single beat and yet when they fell, the soil was poisoning them, bringing them back to this hellish life. They fell to death whenever they got stabbed, shot but to be honest not even Death herself was sure whether they were alive or not to begin with. They were like phantoms, specters, ghosts… were they people? Perhaps. Were they ghosts? Maybe…

… And speak of the Devil… Vera flickered, and disappeared into the shadows…


	34. Ghost People, Ghost People

“Crap!” Dean grunted.

They could hear it immediately, the howling, the soulless pain echoing through the stones and sand of the Villa. They were coming, hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. Vera was the only thing keeping the locals away from the place. But now that she’d malfunctioned… slowly… Sol heard their breath, howling growl. They breathed through their gas masks, the Cloud, it strengthened them. It gave them the power of fear.

He could hear whispers… of the bricks, the buildings, the doors were closing. The Clouds were screaming. One, two, three, five… seven, nine, thirteen… twenty one… thirty… they kept growing like weed.

One, two, three, four… they had bear traps for claws…

Five, six, seven, eight… they sharpened their spears with the stones around…

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve… torches, lighting up the fire of the dark, the phantoms of the flames…

“Brace yourself… here they come…”

The four of them backed down near the fountain. Dean took out his pistol and Sol loaded the small revolver he found in the police station. Dog was growling like… a mad dog… and Christine… nobody thought much of her fighting ability, but regardless, she pulled out her knife.

This is bad, Sol thought to himself. There was just too many of them, he had to find a way to fix the hologram otherwise they’ll be going at it all day long. But even then… even if they managed to fix the hologram, what then? Dean noted that the Ghost People weren’t actually afraid of the holograms; rather, they worshiped them, fascinated by it.

One of the Ghost People lunged at them with a spear, Sol unloaded on the ghoul. Their skins were tough, bullets just didn’t faze them easily. Sol had no choice but to slam his palm down the revolver’s hammer, one, two, three, four, five… six shots. The Ghost staggered a little but its hide was still tough. Dean finished it off with a shot to the skull, blasting it all over the place. It collapsed onto the ground in an instant.

“Hey, not bad,” Dean commented.

“Shoot now, talk later,” Sol yelled, reloading his six shooter.

Another three charged towards them, their movements were stiff, they had no momentum, no rhythm. Sol had no idea how to deal with them. All he could do was unload his gun onto them. They were lucky that Dog was on their side, the Mutant… he was always hungry, he had no trouble tearing through their skins biting away into their rotten flesh and… swallowing them. He was vicious, a monster.

One of the Ghosts threw a spear towards Christine which caught her by surprise. It was close, nearly caught her by the shin.

“CHRISTINE! WATCH OUT!” Sol yelled as he knocked the spear out of the Ghost’s hand expertly with a shot from his gun.

“Well, I hope that you have a plan,” Dean yelled through the madness, kept on shooting from his pistol, “word is that the Ghost People drag their victims into the Cloud to do God knows what. And I’m not intending to find out.”

“Then you better shut up a keep shooting,” Sol bellowed as he busted another Ghost’s skull, “listen up, there’s too many of them, I’ll hold them off while you guys make it to that building over there, try to find something to board it up.”

"What do we do afterwards?"

"We'll think of something later, okay Dean?"

Another Ghost jumped on them, Dean and Sol made the damn thing eat lead but it kept getting back up. These locals, they kept on coming, there was no stopping them. Bullets couldn’t scratch them, knife wounds were like tickles, and not even Dog’s monstrous strength and hunger could quell all of these fiends. Dog followed Sol’s order and started grabbing the Ghost, tossing them around like rag dolls. They roared with the rage of hell backing them. These fiends… Sol was not even sure if these things were from the mortal world. Their scents were of burnt flesh, the fire, the Clouds, burning away their skins.

Thanks to Dog’s monstrous strength, they managed to push back the wave of Ghost People, but many others managed to get a few deep cuts into Dog with their spears and bear traps. Dean grabbed Christine and bolted as fast as he could to the house nearby. Sol and Dog stayed behind holding back the wave of fiends. Sol was running low on ammunition, so he tried to make every shot count. One shot piercing through the leg, another one bursting two skulls at the same time. It didn’t kill them but it at least slowed them down enough for Sol and Dog to make a run for it towards the building.

The burning sand beneath their feet, the fiery Cloud above the sky, they were burning the Madre. And the Ghosts – they feasted on the fire of this hell.

“Come on!” Dean shouted as Sol rushed through the door, “NOW!” All of them slammed their shoulders against the wooden door, but despite the effort, they could still feel the weight of the Ghost People pushing back. By now Sol had lost count of how many Ghosts there were.

Luckily Dog managed to find a large closet in the back, he dragged the block of wood to the front and barricaded the door.

“The windows!” Sol shouted. Dean rushed over to the cupboard by the corner and with all his might he managed to push it over and blocked the Ghost People from coming in. The Ghosts were still banging onto the front door and the cupboard by the window, clawing, trying to get inside. The wood seemed to be able to hold… for now…

The room smelt of old wood and ancient bricks, Dog managed to drag the table and chairs in the back room to front to help reinforce the barricade. There was a fireplace by the side but there was no firewood. It was quite dark, since Dean blocked the window. Not that it made a difference, since the sun hadn’t come up at all since they set foot in the Sierra Madre. Sol went into the kitchen to find supplies while Dog and Dean reinforced the door. There wasn’t much left in the fridge, just a withered piece of carrot and half a potato, it seemed rotten. The cupboards on top were also empty, nothing but three squares of wooden boxes covered in dust and spider webs. He tried the footlocker and the other cupboard by the corner and he thanked the heavens when he found a box filled with old candles alongside a matchbox, there was over a dozen of them, enough for at least one night.

“Here,” Sol said, setting down the candles the floor, “see if you can find something to set this up, a wooden board, a book, anything.”

“This will do,” Dean handed him an old book on top of the fireplace, “just burn the thing and the wax will stick.”

“Right.”

Soon enough Sol managed to light two candles and lit up the room, he wanted to save the rest for later. He noticed that the clubbing sound on the front door seemed to have stopped. The Ghosts must’ve been tired from banging on the door, they were not exactly clever.

“Well,” Dean said, rubbing his hands together, “that was unfortunate, never thought Vera would bail out on us.”

“I don’t get it,” Sol said, “the holograms survived the Great War… it survived for so long, why did it give in now?”

“The important thing is that we made it out alive,” Dean said, then suddenly turning to Christine, looking a bit sinister, “no thanks to you.”

Christine was shocked, but she didn’t attempt to justify herself, she just stared up to Dean.

“Let’s not start pointing fingers here,” Sol told Dean, “it’s bad enough that we’re in this shit hole. Nobody could’ve expected it to happen.”

“Right,” Dean said, “but I would’ve appreciate it a little more if she could’ve… oh I don’t know, be a little bit more helpful for a change.”

“Dean, now’s not the time,” Sol said, on the verge of yelling, until he remembered his agreement with Dean, “what we need to do now is to come up with a new plan. The most important thing to do now is to find supplies. Guns, ammo, food. I have a feeling that the Ghost People will be back. So…”

“No!” Dean cried, “This is important, we have to deal with this now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you stupid?” Dean sneered, “Can’t you see?”

Sol looked at him, confused.

“Oh, this is rich, okay, let me explain something to your tiny brain. The holograms survived for so long, even after the Great War, right? And do you think that it’s just a coincidence that Vera, the Madre’s biggest hologram just happens to run out of juice? Out of the blue? Don’t you see? The Old man set us up. He knew that the Ghost People would come if Vera wasn’t there.”

“You’re crazy,” Sol disagreed, “why on earth would Elijah do something like that? This compromises our plan, this is a setback, and the last thing Elijah needs is a setback like this.”

“Don’t try to justify the reasons of the Old man,” Dean retorted, “that man is a crazy old bastard, I wouldn’t be surprised if the old fool eats wood for breakfast and wears a trash can for clothes.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Where else?” Dean said, a little bit sinister, “… someone here is not who they claimed to be… and I think we all know who it is,” he then turned right to Christine.

The mute girl looked up, once more looking shocked. She shook her head violently and waved her hands motioning her disagreement.

“Dean, you’re going too far.”

“Am I?” Dean stared at her through his pair of shades, “look at her, and now look straight me in the eye and tell me that you don’t find a bit suspicious. She doesn’t talk, she just came out of nowhere, we don’t know who she is. How do we know that she’s not working for the old fart and is setting up all of this?”

“Why would he even do that?” Sol said.

“Who knows? To make sure that we’re staying on track? To make sure that none of us turns on the Old man while he’s not looking? To make sure the plan goes as he had planned? Look at her! For all we know she could very well be an artificially made person who the Old man made in order to do his bidding.”

Now that Sol thought about it, she did seem a bit out of place compared to the others. They had a Super Mutant Nightkin and a ghoul, all of which were products of the nature of the nuclear bombs. But Christine? She came from an Auto-Doc in the Madre’s clinic. Didn’t actually strike them as natural. And the way the scars ran over her face and head just had 'artificial' written all over it.

With that said… when Sol looked into her eyes… what he saw… was real. She was really there, no two ways about it.

Christine tried to make a motion waving in the air, she pointed at herself then shook her head violently as she walked by the window and pointed outside. Sol squinted his eyes to try to make out where she was pointing, it seemed like the fountain…

“So…” Sol said, a bit unsure, “you’re saying that… you’re… not… with Elijah?”

She then nodded vigorously, thanking the heavens that Sol finally managed to understand her. She then made another motion with her two fingers, motioning as a walking figure. Then she pointed her fingers outside again towards the fountain. At the end she clapped her hands together and slowly pulling her arms to the side as far as possibly. Then finally pointed her fingers at her wrist, motioning a watch.

Sol squinted his eyes for a few seconds before he said:

“Okay, okay, wait a minute… let me see if I can get this right… um… so… so you’re saying that… you’ve been… walking? … No… after Elijah for a… wide… no… no I got it… for a long time right?”

Christine nodded her head even more vigorously, clapping her hands together. Pleased that Sol had finally got to her.

“Well,” Dean said, “how do we know that you’re telling the truth?”

Christine, thought about it for a moment, before waving her finger in the air to draw something. There was a motion that went straight up, she then drew three smaller circles somewhere in the middle of that straight line. Then she ended it with an image that looked like a pair of wings just beneath the straight line.

“Wait… I know that symbol,” Sol said suddenly, “you’re with the Brotherhood of Steel, right?”

She nodded again, smiling brightly. She then pointed her finger outside again to the fountain, connecting it back to the image she just drew. Pointing at herself, making the walking motion and directed her finger outside again.

“Wait… I know this,” Sol said clapping his hands together, “You're saying that you're… that you were going after the Old man, since you're both from the Brotherhood. Right? So that must mean it's an issue related to what happened within your chapter. Am I getting this right?”

She nodded again, decisively. Dean grunted annoyingly:

“It’s a trick, she’s lying.”

“Would you cut her some slack already?” Sol said, “For all we know she might’ve lost her ability to speak when she was in that Auto-Doc, we don’t know what freaky shit goes on in there.”

“Right, right,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Why don't  _you_ tell us something about yourself then?” Sol turned his attention towards Dean, “How do _we_ know that you don’t have something fishy to hide?”

He stared at Sol with menacing eyes, again seemed to be threatening him:

“Be careful there… _partner…_ you’re getting a little too close… I have absolutely no reason to jeopardize our mission. Ever since that hulking beast dragged me in this mess all I wanted to do was to get out.”

“Is that so? You seemed to know the Madre very well… perhaps a little too well.”

Dean wasn’t angry, instead he laughed:

“Look at me, I’m Dean fucking Domino. You name me a place in this world and I guarantee you that I’ve been there before. Even the goddamn White House… and I doubt that you even know where that is.”

“Still,” Sol said, “you seemed to hold this place dearly… calling the Madre a she… you seemed to know Vera as well, the woman at the fountain.”

“I know everybody,” Dean said, “Vera Keyes just happened to be one of them. Look, I just happen to know a lot about the Casino, alright?”

“Is that so? Then you wouldn’t mind telling me what is it that’s inside that godforsaken place now would you? I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into. Tell me why the Old man is after the Madre, what on earth would be so precious that the Old man would go through all of this to get into the City?”

“Beats me,” Dean said, “some kind of treasure, I assume. I don’t know alright?”

“What if I just kill you right now?” Sol suddenly raised his gun towards Dean’s head, taking him by surprise, “Would that spark a memory?”

There was a sudden change in mood behind his eyes, Dean tried to hide it behind his shades but Sol could see right through. He seemed uneasy.

“Careful where you point that thing there partner,” Dean said slowly, “have you already forgotten? You blow me up and we all blow up.”

“Fair enough… but it’ll be worth it, I guarantee it. At least… if you happen to be the culprit behind this then I would have at least caught the right guy. I don’t care if I die either, I’ve wanted to die for so long that I’ve been practically throwing myself into hell’s flame and it still spat me back out to this mortal plane. If I blow up here, all the better. And if Christine just so happens to be the culprit after all? I wouldn’t mind either, it’s a win-win, everybody is happy.”

“Careful there, you shouldn’t play with that thing,” Dean said, even more uneasy, “I already told you… I don’t know anything. Are you stupid? Why are you accusing me?”

“Why not? What goes around comes around. You tried to threaten me before, I’m just repaying the favor.”

“I… you… you fucking bastard… what do you want?” Dean shouted.

“Just tell me what is inside that City. At least that will prove that you are who you claimed to be. Dean Domino, the man who knows all the famous people and landmarks, or are you just lying? All these claims, are they true? Or are you _really_ the little piece of crud that the Old man hired to screw us over?”

“I already told you, I DON’T KNOW! All I know is that fucking Mutant dragged my ass all the way to this hellhole for that old son of a bitch!”

“Maybe,” Sol said, staring at Dean with a red spark, “but how do we know that for sure? For all we know, you could’ve been staying here the whole time, waiting ever since the bombs dropped hundreds of years ago. How do we know that you’re not just another one of the crooks who snuck in here for the treasure of the City of Gold?”

“How the hell should I know? If you want answers then ask the fucking Mutant, don’t you dare accuse me! Do you think I asked for any of this? Do you think that I _wanted_ be here?”

And that was when another red spark flared up in Sol’s eyes. His finger closing in on the trigger of the revolver, but just as Dean was about to close his eyes and brace himself – Solmund pulled the gun away. Christine was watching from the side, sweat flowing down her dried up forehead.

“Hmm…” Sol looked at Dean, slowly he lowered his gun, “… maybe you’re right… maybe…”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean exhaled, relieved, “don’t scare me like that.”

“You’re not off the hook yet,” Sol affirmed, “it’s just that I still had more questions that needed answers.”

And with that, he turned his attention over to the gigantic Super Mutant.


	35. Taming the Beast

“If it isn’t the clever one?”

“You heard the conversation, I assume.” Sol said.

“Yes,” God admitted, “we did. And Dog’s still listening right now.”

“Good, because you do realize the predicament you’re in right now, right?”

“Hmm…”

“You’re so far the most suspicious of all of us,” Sol said in a demanding voice, “and yet… you don’t seem worried.”

“Why would I be?” God said, “I have no reason to.”

“But you work for the Old man, don’t you?” Dean asked.

But God smirked:

“That is Dog, Dog is the one who follows orders. He's the one who craves to serve under a master… like an animal.”

But God seemed curious towards Sol. His expression… his eyes, the same red spark he had while glaring at Dean earlier. He then suddenly raised his revolver once more, all loaded – six shots. He then did something that nobody expected – he aimed it straight at his own head.

“What’s this?” God smirked, “Ha-ha, I see what you’re doing. You’re threatening me, aren’t you? Like you did the ghoul?”

The two of them stared right into each other’s eyes. Solmund was a tall man, but he was nothing compared to the hulking beast standing before him. The monster could probably break him in half if he so desired. God not only didn’t back down, he stood there confident and proud, towering over the old cowboy.

“Go right ahead,” God said, “do you think that you’re the only one here who’s not afraid of death? I see your game, human. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re suspicious of whether I actually have a bomb collar on me or not. And you’re trying to get a reaction out of me.”

“Yes,” Sol agreed, “you said that Dog swallowed your bomb collar due to his hunger, but the bomb’s somehow still active inside your stomach, right? But how do we know if you’re just bluffing?”

“Of course,” God laughed, “they don’t call you the clever one for nothing I assume. But the problem with that is that I simply don’t care if I die or not. This form… this body gives me nothing but pain and agony. The two voices fighting for a single pile of flesh. So if anything, you’d be doing me a favor by shooting yourself. You won’t prove anything.”

“That is true…” Sol said, contemplating for awhile, “you are right… but there’s also another problem with you…”

The air had shifted, the forces of the shadow behind them became a lot stronger out of the sudden. And that was simply because Sol had moved the gun away from his head and aimed it at the Mutant’s forehead.

God did not shift, he simply said:

“Like I said, I do not fear death, there’s nothing you can do to me to get your way.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Sol said, still aiming at God, “I don’t buy any of this.”

Everyone in the room was suddenly confused. Sol continued:

“Do you know how many liars I’ve met in my life? I probably couldn’t even begin to count even if I could live forever. Here you have a guy named Steve in the Hub back west and when he gets to Utah his name’s suddenly John. You get the point. They’re all phenomenal actors, I admit, lying is an art, it takes a certain skill. And if my suspicion about you turns out to be true then… you’re just another actor… trying to convince people that you have two personalities inside you, and if that’s true then I got to say, you’re the best goddamn actor I’ve ever met.”

“So what? That doesn’t prove anything.”

But Sol smiled at the mutant, he said:

“Do you know who I was before I became like this? I was a doctor for the New California Republic, I’ve met a patient with split personality once, called himself Jameson one afternoon, and then by the next few days he started calling himself Taylor. It’s true, you’re no good dead, but… let’s face it, if I'd wanted to kill you I wouldn’t be using this pathetic revolver. However, if I just aim this gun a little bit crooked like this… there’d be two outcomes to this situation. The first scenario, assuming that you don’t really have split personality. Your nervous system will fail and you’ll be temporarily paralyzed, not dead. Thus proving that you really are not who you claimed to be which means you really are Elijah’s spy, here to screw with us. The other scenario, however, might not be very… favorable for you… if you really do have split personality, then this bullet should be able to block you out entirely, giving Dog full control of your body. You won’t be dead, you just won’t be able to switch bodies again.”

“Hah, you’re bluffing,” but Sol saw in God’s eyes that something was shifting.

“I never told you what ever happened to Jameson, right? Wanna guess what happened? I’ll tell ya… one day… Jameson came to me, told me that he’d been hearing Taylor’s voice again. Said that Taylor was plotting another one of his schemes again. This time he hid away a pile of dynamites somewhere and was intending to blow up the general’s tent, why? I don't know, probably for some laughs. I asked Jameson if he wanted me to block Taylor out of his head, but he shook his head. Told me, that instead he wanted me to block Jameson out of his head. I asked him why, and he told me that it was because he couldn’t bear the pain anymore, he was too tired, too exhausted to deal with Taylor. Although I knew then that if I'd blocked Jameson then that psychopath Taylor would be free to run around and do whatever the fuck he wanted. But I couldn’t bear to have Jameson suffer anymore… so I did what he asked.”

God looked down onto Sol, this old man had a smug look on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. Sol continued:

“The operation was simple enough, it was just a small trigger that needed to be shut off. Whether it was by a small knife, scalpel… or even a low caliber bullet. And to someone like you… a .357 magnum would be nothing but a small cut, small, but just enough.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” God almost yelled, still trying to take control.

“Oh, is that so?” Sol smirked, the red spark flared up in his eyes, “That look in your eyes… I can tell, you don’t want me to shoot you. And I won’t… if you’re willing to tell me what you know.”

“This is stupid!” God commented, “If I say that I have no idea then you would just shoot me because you’re suspicious, if however I say that I do know something then you’d still shoot me regardless because you’ll conclude that I’m a spy. What exactly do you want me to do? We are wasting time here! Each wasted second the Ghost People grow in numbers and our job becomes increasingly difficult…”

But Solmund only responded by staring at God menacingly. It was a stare of a red spark. A stare of power and of shadows. His shadow was overpowering God, a Mutant so big, so strong – and yet felt completely helpless.

“Listen up!” Sol shouted firmly, “From now on all of you are going to take orders from me. The old fart might be crazy, but he did choose me for a reason. Because I’m the reason that this operation is going to succeed, and this isn’t cockiness talking either. I do not fear Death, in fact I welcome it. And whether you like it or not I’m going to march into the Sierra Madre like it’s my last day on earth, and I’m dragging all of you with me… it’s crazy, it’s illogical, but at least we might have a chance. So you do exactly what I say, otherwise I'll put all of you in a world of pain that would take at least ten lifetime to recover from. That includes you too, Dean. And you! Christine, don’t think that just because I believe your little story that you’re off the hook. So do what I say, or I'm going to bring y'all hell, and believe me when I say that it's gonna be a lot worse than the hell of the Sierra Madre.”

And for a moment… a brief, short moment, Sol’s helplessness of this foreign, alien land… slowly disappeared. He could feel it, like cold Whiskey. The power… the power of the sand flowing back into his veins.


	36. Trigger the Gala Event

Vera suddenly came back on… great. She sure had been gone for awhile, and so were the Ghost People, Sol wondered what happened to her. Sol thought that they should be moving out into their positions right about now since Vera won’t be there forever.

Crap, Sol thought to himself, his chest was hurting again. He began to cough violently. The Cloud of the Sierra Madre wasn’t helping either, he'd already gotten used to the nuclear radiation of the Mojave but this, this was something else.

The Madre’s security system took every piece of equipment he had on him when he first arrived, including his pack of medicinal cigarettes. All it left him with was a jump suit. The system didn’t leave behind any weapons, the revolver was something he had to take from the Police station. Elijah said that it was a defense mechanism from any and all foreign elements such as radioactivity, to prevent the place from being damaged. Ironic since the Cloud did more harm than anything the nuclear fallout could’ve ever done.

The pain was excruciating, his lungs felt like a pounding drum that kept shrinking by the minute. He shook his head, trying to shake off the pain, grabbing at his chest while attempting to breathe in slowly. He could feel his throbbing heart screaming of the dark pain that surrounded the Madre.

Sol never actually remembered when the pain in his chest started to grow. Maybe it was when he was around forty or something. And before long he was smoking his cigarettes on a daily basis, they were like Stimpaks for your lungs. The material used to brew the substances in the cigarette weren’t too rare. Some coyote tobacco chew, a couple of broc flowers and few pounds of snake venom. Coyote tobacco chew weren’t exactly the same as the normal tobacco with regular cigarettes, but still, whatever worked.

He figured out the recipe while he was experimenting with some of the Stimpaks and broc flowers. The recipe seemed simple, but the results were usually random. You could get what you were after if you brew it right or you could get complete crap on some occasions, worst case scenario? You screw up and ended up brewing some poisonous substance instead, you’ll never know. Luckily for Sol, he knew of a way to rinse out the poisonous substance in the snake venom therefore guaranteeing the results.

But none of this actually mattered since there was no broc flowers around here, there were no snakes crawling around here either. And he was damn sure that there wasn’t any coyote tobacco plant around for miles as well. So if he couldn’t find a way to get out of here fast… then the question wouldn’t be whether  _if_ his lungs will collapse but rather _when_  his lungs will collapse – which should be rather soon.

They were a little bit short on time so they had a change of plan. Instead of going to each location one at a time in a whole group, they instead decided to split up to save time. Plus it’d be easier to sneak around the Ghost People that way.

God had already parted them in order to get to the switching station of Salida del Sol, which was a big part of the plan in order to get the Gala Event going. For a big fellow like him he sure knew how to sneak around quietly. Sol didn’t even notice he was gone when he looked back.

Christine also left for the other switching station in Puesta del Sol. Elijah’s instructions stated that the Casino’s and Villa’s power source needed to be rerouted in order to activate the event. When asked about how she would accomplish this, she made a motion towards her brain then made a little twirl, then afterwards made another motion that resembled a plus, minus, multiplication sign. She then pointed towards herself and gave herself a thumbs up.

It took awhile but Solmund finally managed to piece it together:

“Ah, I see… you’re saying that even thought your head… your brain is damaged, you can still do math, right? So that’s why the Old man put you there at the station.”

She nodded in acknowledgment then quickly left into the shadows of the Villa. The Cloud and darkness were still there, surrounding the buildings.

That left only…

“Well now,” Dean said, “so, what now _, chief?_ You’re going to leave me to my position as well? While you’re off doing God knows what?”

“There’s a console device,” Sol explained, “up in the Bell Tower over by Salida del Sol. Once all three of you get into position, I will trigger the Gala Event. Then we can join back at the entrance and go into the Casino. At least that’s the plan.”

But Dean didn’t have a problem with the plan, oh no. What he was bothered with however was Solmund. Dean felt… disappointed.

“Ya know,” Dean said, “I trusted you… we shook on it… what about _our_ plan?”

“Dean…” Sol sighed, “… okay, okay, for the love of Christ, I’m sorry, alright? I’m just really… really frustrated right now. I really just need to find that bastard Elijah and get my friends back. ED-E is probably freaking out right now.”

“Eddy?”

“Oh, it’s a little eyebot I found, his name’s spelled E-D-E. He doesn’t like being in small, dark spaces, it freaks him out. Took me an awful long time trying to calm him down after entering a small vault. You can imagine what a place like this would do to him.”

“Hmm…” Dean looked at him, thinking about it for a moment before he said, “why did you come here in the first place? You should’ve realized by now that nothing in this world is free. And a promise of a free treasure? Just seemed too good to be true. Surely, coming into this hellhole with your friends captured wasn’t your intention, right? Then why did you come?”

Sol thought about it. But his memories were getting worse, not because of age, but rather because of rebirth. He seemed tired, exhausted, he smiled weakly:

“Can’t say that I know for sure. I’m just so… tired of everything, ya know. It’s like… as if… my life is a story that’s just waiting to be told. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an insane story, but a predetermined story nonetheless. It took me sixty long years to realize that. So I thought… this might as well be my last ride. Ya know, one more time, for old time’s sake. And a place like this? A place of rest, a place of promises and of new beginnings? I just knew it was too good to be true, but here I am.”

Dean stared at him, Sol had a hard time making out his expression behind his shades… and yet…

Dean said:

“These friends of yours… they… mean a lot… don’t they?”

“Well, yeah, I met them on my journey. They each had their own little quirks, like how Cass pretty much would confess everything about herself whenever she gets drunk. Veronica kept going on and on about a dress and mushy romances that she read in those love stories, or novels or whatever – though she’d never admit she’s into those kinds of things – then there’s Raul and his freaking mouth, it just won’t shut up, always knew how to lighten up the mood, ha-ha. I don’t know how I’d make it without Raul, whenever we’re in a tight spot thinking that we were going to die, he'd hit us with his goddamn sarcasm which motivates us to fight through this hell and survive just so we could punch him the face later on, ha-ha… Then there’s Boone and Arcade with the mysterious aura surrounding them. It’s always fun trying to piece together what kind of a person they are through their appearances… I don’t know… it’s just that… I came to this place expecting to die… but I never expected that I’d be dragging them along with me. So I wanted to find them… to at least… at the very least… say sorry for putting them through all of this.”

He might not remember everything before his rebirth, but there was no mistake about it. Even though he’d never outright admit it, he’d lost many old friends, despite saying that he never knew them that well, which in retrospect, might've just been an excuse to avoid dealing with his heart breaking. So losing his friends now… would tear his heart into a trillion pieces.

But now? Fragments of old memories were slowly flowing back to him, it was blurry. He could barely make it out. They were memories of… friends… home…

_Sol! You wanna have a drink? There’s plenty to go around, I’ll tell ya ‘bout the time when Judy…_

_Can anybody tell me where the New California Republic first originated… yes, how about you, Sol? Ah, very good Sol, indeed, it originated from a small community called Shady Sands that was…_

_Try it again at fifteen, you’re out of tune… didn’t I tell you to get your sax cleaned up? C’mon, man…_

Dean suddenly stood up, stretching his arms. He then smiled at Sol. And for a brief moment, Sol could’ve sworn that his smile was actually genuine.

“C’mon,” Dean said, “Let’s go find that old fart, I have a good feeling about this… I just can’t wait to shove my fist down his throat.”

A thought then lingered in Sol’s head… just… one last time… he then smiled.

“Although,” Dean then said, “if you’re going to leave me on that damn building over Puesta del Sol all by myself, then I have three words for that – hell fucking no!”

Dean then rambled on for a little while on how once he activated the sound system the Ghost People will be pouring into the area like ants so he wanted protection. But Sol didn’t really care much about his complaints, getting him protection would be a cake walk. There was bound to be some holograms leftover around the Villa, good enough to protect him while he worked. What Sol really cared about was Dean… he… he was mysterious. He might have claimed to not know that much of what was really inside the Sierra Madre, but he sure damn hell was hiding something. Sol had a hard time figuring out what it was. Perhaps it was a broken soul, or just an ugly side that one would never in their lifetime show other people.

 

 

 

 

_…s… ttz… zzs… EVERYONE… r... t… zz… MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION…  GUESTS AND RESIDENTS OF… THE VILLA ALIKE. I ASK YOU TO STEP OUTSIDE AND LOOK INTO THE NIGHT SKY, IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR, THE REASON WE’RE ALL HERE… THE GALA EVENT… rr… tt… THE GRAND OPENING OF THE SIERRA MADRE CASINO… zz… z… t… RAISE YOUR… GLASS IN CELEBRATION, LET MUSIC FIILL THE STREETS. FIREWORKS LIGHT THE SKY AND… PRO…MISE OF NE…W BEGIN…NINGS FILL YO…UR HEA…RTS. NO MATTER WHAT YOUR… tts… zt… r… FORTUNE, NO… zz… MATTER WHAT YOUR CARES – LET GO THIS NIGHT AND BEGIN AGAIN….zz… t… stz…_


	37. Put the Beast Down

“Let me go you maniac!” The girl shook the bar violently in the cell that held her, it was rusty, and smelt of old dead steel. The scent, the odor of ancient death.

“Calm yourself, Veronica,” the old voice said, “I do not wish to hurt you, but if this persists then I will have no choice.”

“Wait the minute,” she paused, “how did you know my name?”

The old man laughed:

“My, my, Veronica, has it been that long? Have you forgotten me already? Am I nothing but a fragment of an old memory that’s waiting to rot away in your mind? Am I just a man so old that his children are practically counting the days before I die? If so then I must say, I am very disappointed in you Veronica.”

She squinted her eyes through the metal bars to see this figure, only to realize immediately what she saw. She nearly squealed:

“Elijah? Is that you?”

“AH! Praise the heavens and the Lord above, you finally remember me.” Elijah raised him hands in the air, “although I doubt that there is actually a heaven or a Lord. If there was a Lord, then we wouldn’t even be in this mess to begin with. Bah, but it doesn’t matter now that you’re here.”

Veronica stared at the Old man, she gaped in disbelief. She could hardly recognize this man. The man… the man who meant so much to her…

Back in the old days of the Brotherhood of Steel, Elijah was everything to Veronica. She didn’t have a family, her dad was a Paladin and her mom was a scribe. They died a long time ago during a mission. She never remembered what the mission was about, maybe she was too young to remember. But none of that really ever mattered. Because Elijah was there, and he was all she had left.

He had taught her everything he knew, and she looked up to him for that. He was a technical wizard. His mind was a kingdom of iron and gears, all filled with tesla coils and circuits that could give life to any machine he touched.

Veronica never had many friends growing up, she remembered Melissa. But they were actually rivals more than anything else, so she didn’t count. Most people thought Veronica was a strange child, she was never the type that followed orders. Skipping classes, disobeying her superiors and being completely reckless on missions were all done on a daily basis. The Brotherhood valued discipline and honor, she never did fit in with these kinds of code. But it didn’t matter, because she had Elijah.

He was always there whenever she got into trouble. He was never angry at her for disrupting the lectures from Head Scribe Taggart, nor would he be mad whenever she fired off an unstable plasma rifle prototype into the wall – God knows how long they spent repairing that hole in the wall – the point was that… he was the only family she ever had. And now?

When she looked at him… she saw something… grim. It was like looking at a power armor that had been broken for years and only now had it been found. They dug the armor up, tried to fix it, but the system inside went berserk and killed off a few of the mechanics, some burnt by the faulty wiring. Others were killed while they were doing a test run, with the armor collapsing on top of them. And after a long time, the rust got into the joints, and scent of old dead metal started to rise and nobody bothered to fix the damn thing anymore, he was too far gone.

“Elijah, what happened to you?” She said, looking at the man, “I… I thought you died… that day…”

“Hush child, we must not disturb the moment, this is very important.”

“What are you talking about?” Veronica looked around, she noticed she was in a strange room all by herself, “Where did you take my friends, Elijah? Please, I’m begging you, please tell me what is going on? Where on earth am I? Why are you not dead? Wh…”

“Now is not the time Veronica,” Elijah cut her off, “look here, the main event’s about to start.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say,” Elijah stared into the blurry computer screen in front of him, “it’s payback time.”

 

 

 

 

Sol’s head was spinning, the air was different, and there wasn’t any Cloud around like in the Villa. Maybe there was still some broken vents around here somewhere with leaking Clouds here and there, but nothing compared to the Villa.

There it was, standing in the floor and walls of the city of ancient myth. These grounds – they smelt of burnt asphalt, or maybe it was the scent of something else, he wasn’t entirely sure. But they were old, very old. The walls all around him howled of old images, reflection of the men and women of the Old World, receptionists by the counter. Butlers going around with martini on their silver trays.

Sol could see the dust left behind from footprints – shoes, high heels alike. A layer of old grey dust, they were telling old stories, stories of the people that had walked the floor of the City of Gold.

Here we could see a gentleman who devoted his entire life in acquiring all the riches and wealth there were in the Old World. An ambitious man indeed, but a very foolish one at that. He never stopped seeking money and wealth. Gold, jewelry, diamonds, rubies could never fully satisfy him, and he had never stopped these foolish desires. Not when he had heard of the legend of the City of Gold, he couldn’t help himself.

Over by the corner were footprints of a woman, a woman in love, for each night she entered dream realm to dream of endless moonlight shining on the vast sand of the sea shore. She saw footprints on the sand. It was a sign of a man, a kind and loving man. He was the most heroic of them all, and his heart was as golden as King Midas himself. She dreamed of this man, her man, his lustrous eyes, the sparkling golden locks and his powerful physique. She could not stop thinking of him, and she searched endlessly for the man. She had never seen him in person, but she believed that if she could find the ancient stories of myth – myth of Gold, then she’d certainly be able to find this man of her, the man lost in myth. She couldn’t help herself.

There was another man, a scientist, perhaps. He was an odd man – pragmatic. His footprints were clean, the dust had never settled into his marks. He seemed calm and cautious. Each footsteps were as light as paper, barely visible. He was a man of facts and truth, he spoke in the ways of science and the methods of logic. His logic had never been defied, his facts had never been proven false, he walked a straight path. It was this very path that led him to this City. He had never believed the City to be of Myth, he didn’t believe in myths, everything to him were facts… but he could never had predicted the confusion, the madness that scrambled his mind when he arrived. There were feelings deep down that he never thought existed. He told himself he’d got rid of those emotions long ago, and yet what was it that was haunting his sanity? Greed? Desire? Whatever it was, he came here seeking something, on impulse perhaps. Because he couldn’t help himself.

Sol touched the floor of the structure, he felt something rumbling beneath him. Something was wrong, the building, it was howling. Elijah spoke through the radio on the Pip-Boy, he said that the others had already entered the building but the security system had separated them onto different floors. He had to find them, and fast.

 

 

 

 

Sol tracked his way through the Casino main floor and made his way through the main lobby, into the back area. There was a couple of holograms patrolling the area but Sol managed to sneak pass them, it was difficult but he pulled it off. Dean did say that the holograms were basically invincible, so no point trying to shoot them. He eventually found a key in one of the rooms in the back, this key should be able to unlock the door and lead Sol into the kitchen, that was where Elijah said God was.

However, Sol was starting to get more worried by the minute, especially when he overheard Dog’s voice behind the door moaning through God’s head. The two voices were getting more unstable by the minute, they were fighting each other, trying to overpower one another for control.

Sol also smelled a slight scent of gas leaking through the door. Not good, whatever Dog was planning to do it won’t end well for any of them.

He decided to enter the door into the kitchen, he could hear his growling growing slowly. He was in pain, the kind of pain that was immaterial, it was a scream that the Sierra Madre will immortalize in these poisonous walls forever.

“Dog?” Sol called as he walked through the hall in the kitchen, the smell of gas was overwhelming, more than any regular gas leak could’ve ever done.

“Don’t come…” Dog yelled, “… not… good for you…”

“Dog please… I… I can help…”

“Help? You?” the Mutant’s voice suddenly changed, “How could you of all people help me? I don’t want your help, I don’t need it. You get out of here now otherwise we’ll all be burnt to a crisp. At least if you make it out of here alive you’d get to live the rest of your life alone as the heartless bastard you are… ugh… argh… h… uman… human, leave now! Not safe for you… other voice is angry… other voice not like you… other voice will hurt you…”

“Dog!” Sol said, “Please, let me help you, I… I can help you…”

“Hah!” God said, “You couldn’t even help yourself, how could you help anybody?”

“I… I…”

“You’re a fool, you wandered into this Casino like an ignoramus going after money, women. A thirsty, greedy fool who Life has already forsaken. You can’t help anybody… ugh…” his voice changed once more, “… please, human… leave this place… it’s dangerous… DOG! Back in the cage now… ugh… NO!”

Dog was clawing at his own head, his heart throbbing. Sol could feel it, the heart beat pumping through the walls. He walked into the room to find the Mutant all scarred up. There were bruises all over his body and burn marks on his torso and back. He’d been hurting himself again, just like he did with the bear trap on his arm. He howled like an animal, blood dripping from his own head, he must have banged it against a wall.

When Sol locked eyes with the beast what he saw was… sadness. This monstrosity of a creature, stronger than most monsters, bigger than most creatures and yet… he was crying…

“… Human… save yourself… you die if you stay here… Dog… Dog is happy… Dog gets to serve… Master and you… Dog never forget… you rescued Dog…”

Sol didn’t see it when he first came in but Dog was holding a grenade in his hand, and he was about to pull the pin.

Dog said:

“Dog… will never forget human… but… but… other voice… other voice angry at Dog… it hurts… other voice hurts Dog… tells Dog to go back in Cage… always trying to stop Dog… always mad… always shout at Dog…”

Dog then had one last look at Sol, he grinned… just a bit.

“Dog is happy to serve… you and Master… you let Dog eat… Dog knows Dog always hungry… Dog knows Dog cause trouble when hungry… Dog sorry… this… is goodbye… Master.”

Dog forcefully yanked the pin out of the grenade, raising his hand up above his head and was about to throw the grenade right down to the ground. The halls will be lit, the fire will burn…

… But…

Dog couldn’t lower his arm down, he was about to throw but his arm was stopped. The clutch of his palm kept the grenade from going off… he was being pushed upwards… by Sol…

It was a surge of strength that Sol never thought he had in him any longer. He was always angrier, more aggressive whenever he became the Red Eye. He could move faster, he became stronger but he had not been the Red Eye for years. He was old now, his days of ruthless murdering were long gone. He had never felt the strength of the Red spark in years. And yet… he held up the Mutant’s arm like a column, Dog was dumbfounded by his amazing strength. An old man in his sixties and yet was as strong as a Super Mutant.

Sol was shaking since Dog was so strong, and yet he managed a smile:

“Dog… God… I… I’m so sorry… but… but… I’M NOT GOING TO LET YOU DIE, NOT HERE, NOT NOW…”

Dog was about to drop the grenade but Sol’s grasp on Dog’s fist was so tight he couldn’t even let go. What kind of monstrosity was this man, Dog wondered.

“I’m sorry God, I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I led you around like an obedient animal, tortured you mentally with your hunger… when all you ever wanted… was to keep Dog safe… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have treated you like an object, an animal… it took me a long time but I’ve learned now… through my travels… I was a foolish man. I killed people whenever I was in trouble… I was running away from my problems for so long, and I resorted to killing, coercing others into doing my bidding whenever it got difficult. Funny thing… I don’t even remember what it was that’s troubling me so much. It’s been so long, but now I know that… taking the easy way won’t get you anywhere. Do you know why? Because I… I have my friends now, they remind me that they will always be there to help me, be with me through tough times. It took me a long time to realize that I’ve been killing so many people that I have never stopped to consider the consequences. I nearly killed a family of a young girl. She… she seemed to have forgiven me… but… I haven’t forgiven myself, every day I live on just so I could repay for my sins. You’re using the easy way out, Dog, and the easy way will never work out in the end.”

Sol picked up the pin on the ground, he took the grenade from his hand and then secured the pin back on so that it won’t go off. Dog had become a little bit more cooperative now.

“I… I… never…” God stuttered, “I never told anyone? How did you know?”

“Let’s just say that… I had a br… ah… an old friend… long ago. I also wanted to protect him, but ended up hurting him.”

Sol was just a few seconds away from forgetting to turn off the gas valve. He twisted the wheel on the pipes, it hissed for a few seconds before it died down. The gas should be leaving through the vents now.

“Dog… Dog doesn’t want to go to Cage… Dog scared of Cage.”

“Then don’t go back in the Cage… look, Dog. God doesn’t want to hurt you. How could he? He’s you!”

“It’s no use, clever one… even… even if Dog understands, he will still be hungry. His hunger cannot be quelled, he will go the distance… just to calm his hunger…”

“You need to realize now that if you accept each other… accept the two voices… as one then the pain will go away.”

“Accept the two voices? You mean… as in… merging the two of us? But how?”

Sol smirked at God:

“Don’t fret, I’m a doctor… well, used to anyway. But it doesn’t matter, what matters is that for you to understand. Look deep inside, when you hear the voice, you hear your own voice. When you look at the animal, you see your own reflection. You are nothing but a single drop on a clear surface of water, currently in a rippled state, unstable and chaotic. All you have to do is to calm the water. Don’t you see? Dog IS God. You’re one and the same. Just let me help you.”

“But… what will happen to Dog… and other voices… when you… help us?”

“I’m not sure… the brains of a Nightkin still require much research to fully understand. But as far as I can tell, the pain will go away forever… it’s, um, complicated.”

“Don’t lie to me human…” God said, “tell me the truth… the pain… the pain will be… forgotten… right? Along with… everything else… all will be forgotten?”

Sol didn’t want to look at him in the eyes, he simply nodded slightly.

“But… but… Dog doesn’t want to unremember you… Dog doesn’t want… Dog afraid… Dog might forget you… you were nice to Dog, you fed Dog… you helped me and Dog to be free of the cage, free of the psychotic old man and helped us avoid the fire of this hell… you saved us… I… we want to repay you… but how?”

Sol shook his head:

“Don’t have to… never have, never will.”

The Mutant looked at him, and smirked:

“You lied to us, you’re not a bastard… you’re not.”

“Maybe I’m not… doesn’t matter. Now, there’s a cosmic knife on the table there, this will only take a minute. It might sting a little bit, but you’ll be fine, I promise.”


	38. Last Luxuries

“Dog… Dog… can you hear me?”

“Huh… um… huh… wh… who are you? What is this place?”

“How do you feel?” Sol asked him, gently placing the knife and the bandages to the side.

“I… I… I feel… as if I've woken up... there’s... I think that... ugh, my head...”

“Are you still hurt?”

“Um... no... it just... feels like an old wound that... finally healed.”

“Oh good...” Sol sighed, relieved.

“But,” Dog looked at Sol confused, “who are you exactly? I don't know you, yet I feel like I do. And a feeling of... gratitude. I... ugh... forgive me, I... I'm wounded. This chain... this bear trap on my arm... how did I even get this far with these wounds? The pain is excruciating, I... I need to rest for a moment.”

Sol washed his hands in the steel tray on his side but Dog’s uneasy eyes kept staring at him.

“Please,” Dog said, exhausted, “please, I need to know... who are you? Who am I? And _where_ am I?”

“You’re...” Sol thought for a minute before answering, “you’re in a cage... there used to be two of you there. But now...”

“I see...” Dog said, he obviously didn’t expect that answer, “that explains why I feel... relieved. As if I can finally be... free... although, I wonder why I feel free... if we’re in a cage.”

“Don’t worry,” Sol assured him, “all of us are in a cage, it’s just... it’s a scary world out there... out of the cage, sometimes it’s best if you stay in here. It’s... it’s relatively safe. Well, most of the time.”

“I... see...” Dog said, still confused but he was not sad. He seemed determined to find out the answers about himself but on his own terms, he said to Sol, “thank you... for whatever you have done. I will remain here, need to get my strength back.”

“Don’t worry, it was a pleasure.”

Sol cleaned the smear off of the cosmic knife, it was pretty thick in blood. Probably because Mutants were artificially created. And their skins were pretty thick too, luckily the knife was awfully sharp. It could probably slice a metal sheet in one go. Sol was then suddenly reminded of something when he looked at the knife – his stomach was growling pretty loud, go figure. He had been eating nothing but beans and junk food from the vending machine for the past few days. But he was always short on Sierra Madre Chips so he couldn’t always get the food from the machine, had to get water, too. He resorted to eating meat from the Ghost People from time to time, it was unpleasant.

Ah, what the heck, this is the kitchen after all. I'm sure nobody's going to mind if I take a few stuff from the fridge. That was what he thought.

“Oh wait, I forgot something,” Sol suddenly stood up to Dog, intending to tell him something but when he looked at the Mutant he realized that the one called Dog or God was no more. This one was... another being entirely. Sol felt a bit sad.

“Yes?” Dog said, “What is it?”

“Ah, nevermind... just that, I know you haven’t completely forgotten about... about us yet so... um... well it doesn’t really matter now but... if we ever meet again... and if you’re up for it then I’ll tell you the story about Jameson.”

_Goodbye Dog, and may the Mojave welcome you into its glory._

 

“Christine?” Sol called out when he entered the big room, “Christine where are you?”

“In here…”

She could finally talk again, Sol wondered how. Although, when he listened more carefully he found that the voice was really similar to the lady at the fountain.

Sol opened the door to the back room and went in. There she stood, she seemed a little bit cleaner from the Cloud and outside dirt. There was an Auto-Doc near the bed, it looked old but functional. Maybe that was how she got her voice back.

“You made it… great,” she coughed, her voice still sounded a little unnatural, “ahem, still hurts when I swallow.”

“Your voice,” Sol looked at her then at the Auto-Doc then back at her again, “I see, you managed to get your vocal cords back… through its surgery I assume.”

“Yeah.”

“You sound like… her, the woman on the broadcast – Vera.”

“Do I?” She asked, “It sounds off to me… but I guess you can’t really tell when it’s your own voice. That’s probably why I got moved here to this suite. It’s hers, Vera. That’s her over there in the corner.”

Sol looked and there was a rotten skeleton wearing a bright red dress. Alongside was a bunch of syringes lying around where she last sat. The expression on Vera’s face… it was grim, it seemed as if she was sad about something. Sol wasn’t entirely sure.

“Well, just try not to talk too much, drink some water. It’s going to be a little uncomfortable but you should be able to adjust soon. I once met a patient with a bad vocal cord. It had a bunch of tumors, I was forced to remove it, wasn’t pretty.”

She nodded.

“That being said… I still need some answers… now that you have your voice back.”

“Yes… where should I start, though?”

“Well, I guess from the beginning,” he said, “who are you? Why are you here?”

“Well, I think you already know at this point but I’m part of the Brotherhood of Steel. I was part of a secret organization within the Brotherhood called the Circle of Steel. We were tasked with missions of collecting members of the Brotherhood who have gone astray from our original principles and philosophies. And that included the man named Elijah.”

“The Old man.”

“Precisely,” She said, “I don’t know if you know this but about five years ago, the Brotherhood was led by Elijah on a mission to seize a solar plant called HELIOS One. It… it didn’t end well for us. A lot of people died that day and it was all because of Elijah’s stubbornness. He tried to seize that solar plant like a child begging his parents for a toy.”

A sudden flood of flashback came back to his mind. It reminded Sol of the guilt he felt when he confronted Veronica. It made his spine shiver. He wondered how hilarious it would be if he told her about what happened at HELIOS One, oh what the fuck! Goddamn it, I’m a sick bastard, he thought.

“So yeah, I’ve been hunting him for some time now,” Christine continued, “he cannot leave the Madre alive, what he’s done… what he’s done here is nothing compared to what he’s done in the past. He came here for a reason, he wanted what’s in the vault of this Casino, but he won’t go down there alone. He… I just… don’t want him to run around free… he’s just too dangerous.”

“Sounds like you two have quite a history together,” Sol said.

“Yeah… I’ve been hunting him… for too long.”

“But the question is why?”

“Well… he… cut me off from someone I cared about a long time ago. We were... relatively close, but something happened and we couldn’t be together.”

“Must be hard for the guy huh?”

“Actually... _she_ didn’t take it too well,” Christine corrected him.

He looked at her, surprised.

“It’s true. Elijah used his status to break us apart,” she said, “so I had to find a new purpose, same banner. Then he became unstable, left a trail of crimes across the wasteland. That was the last straw, I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

“Hah, that reminds me of my friend,” Sol smiled, “had a similar story. She's also a member of the Brotherhood believe it or not. She said she used to be in love with a girl. Poor girl, said that the girl she loved left because of her parents. They didn’t see eye to eye with each other and never approved of her. If I remember correctly, the Brotherhood’s tradition doesn't allow membership to just be randomly distributed to outsiders right? That’s probably why her parents didn’t approve of them being together.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, but Veronica didn’t say much afterwards, said she was young and she doesn’t remember much. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t know.”

“Wait a minute,” she cut him off, “did you just say... Veronica?”

“Yeah... why do you... ask...”

And right that moment, Sol didn’t need to ask how she knew Veronica. He looked her in the eyes, eyes that were hiding behind layers upon layers of deep scars, both external and internal. The answer was as clear as day.

“NO WAY...” Sol exclaimed.

“Ronnie...” Christine said, “I... you knew Ronnie?”

“Yeah, we met at a trading post,” Sol said, “so you’re saying... that woman... you’re... her?”

Christine nodded.

“Wait a minute,” he muttered, “Veronica said that you had some sort of disagreement with your parents, something about how your parents didn’t approve of you and her.”

“Well,” she explained, “that was part of the reason, my parents didn’t originally object our relationship. It only happened because of... him, the Old man. He was very frank with me, told me straight up that he disapproved of me and Ronnie. He even convinced my parents to tell me off. He was very strict about it, and the worst part about it was that he forced me to break things up with her. He forced me to do it... without letting her know the truth. Ronnie... she... never knew. I... the words I said to her that day... all those mean things I said... I can still remember it... the look on her face, I could never get it out of my head. Every night when I go to sleep I can still see her... with those dreadful eyes stabbing at me... I...”

She collapsed on the floor and started to cry. Sol quickly came by her side to comfort her. She was shaking. Her hands covering the tears streaming down her face. The only thought on his mind at that moment was how much of a bastard the Old man really was.

“Ronnie...” she sobbed, “she was... always such a sweet little thing, always so innocent and joyful. She never knew... she never knew.”

Sol didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, how could he? Nothing from his long years of experience could’ve help with this. No witty remarks, no war stories, no nothing. He held Christine close, she embraced him. She felt like a puppy that had been waiting for a home and comfort all this time. He let her cry onto him, all the painful tears washing down his back.

Sol didn’t really know what to do. He didn't want to say anything stupid, he thought about just letting her cry all the pain out. But in the end he decided instead to do the only thing that he could do – offer her his hand.

Christine looked up to this man before her, his eyes darkened into a dark shade of red. It was gloomy and yet it sparkled like a fire. She felt fear... and yet there was this fiery fury within those sparks that somehow strengthened her once more.

“Come on,” he said, “I know I should’ve said this earlier but... Elijah’s holding my friends hostage somewhere. And that includes Veronica. They came with me to the Sierra Madre.”

“WHAT?”

“Bear with me now, I know this sounds bad but we can still get them back. He locked them up somewhere. He’s not going to kill them I assure you, he needs them alive. We can get them back but we need to work together.”

She didn’t know how to respond, she sat there staring in shock.

“Come on,” he said, “Veronica is my friend, too. I will not let her die, even if I have to kill a thousand holograms, even if I have to fight off a thousand Ghost People, even if I have to die, I will make sure that she comes out of this alive and that’s a promise...”

And at that point, Christine’s frown slowly turned into a light smile. There was still some droplets of tears left on her cheeks but at least she’d calmed down.

She wiped her tears off then said:

“Alright... let’s do this.”

“Let’s go, I still have a score to settle with that old fart.”

“And Sol...” she smiled at him.

“Yeah?”

“... Th... thank you...”

“What for?” He asked, surprised.

“For everything... you’ve done for me. You backed me up... when others wouldn’t. And I appreciate it. Even back then with Dean... you were the only one who trusted me.”

“Well,” Sol smiled shyly, “it’s not like there was anybody else around besides Dean who could disagree. Unless you count the Ghost People, but I don’t think they care that much.”

Christine made a gleeful giggle. Basically her way of thanking him for trying to cheer her up.

“Sol… can I… ask you one more question?”

“Sure.”

“Why… why did you interrogated everyone… back then? It was as if you didn’t trust them.”

But he clarified:

“It’s not that I didn’t trust any of you. It’s just that… Dean… he’s… he can be… careless sometimes. He was going overboard and I had to stop him. But I didn’t want to antagonize him. I know that he’s also in this with us.”

“So… what about that little story you told Dog… about Jameson… was it true? Or did you… just make it up.”

He paused for a moment thinking about it, and before he answered he held his lips again, still thinking.

“Nah…” he muttered, “… it’s just… something I came up with… ya know… to convince the Mutant. It’s… it’s not true… don't worry 'bout it."

 

 

 

 

_“Hey, break time you two. You two’ve been going at it for four hours straight. At least get something to drink. Here.”_

_“Thanks sis.”_

_“Alright Sonny, let’s take it from the top.”_

_“I don’t know Sol, maybe we should call it a day. I mean it is getting pretty late and if Taylor comes out we’re going to be in trouble.”_

_“C’mon, Sonny, just one more round alright? I just don’t wanna play the drums without you here playing the sax.”_

_“I know, Sol, I know. It’s just that I’m getting pretty tired. And you should be studying, if not father will get very angry.”_

_“But that’s why we were doing this in the first place, isn’t it? To show father that there’s more to me… more to us than just work, study and the ranch. I want to perform, Sonny, like them folks in Vegas… or at least in New Reno, although I heard that folks in Reno do a different type of performance. Ha-ha, one step at a time I suppose.”_

_“Ew, that’s so gross, you guys.”_

_“Come Janna, it’s not that bad.”_

_“Yeah Janna, don’t be such a scaredy-cat.”_

_“Stop it Jamie.”_

_“Shh… c’mon Janna, you know you shouldn’t call him by that name, father will get angry. We call him Sonny for reason, ya know.”_

_“Sorry. Tee hee.”_

_“Alright, we ready to get back to work Sonny?”_

_“I guess.”_

_“So, what song’re you two playing?”_

_“Moanin’.”_

_“Again?”_

_“Yes, Janna, again, practice makes perfect. Oh shoot, we better hurry before father comes back.”_

_“Ooh, I’ll go and look out for father. I’ll signal you when he comes back.”_

_“Thanks Janna, you’re the best.”_

_“Right, take it from the top, ready when you are Sol.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Moanin'" - Song by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers


	39. Curtain Call at the Tampico

“Why did you come here?” Christine asked, “To the Madre I mean.”

“Well… to find my friends… what else?”

“That doesn’t… make a lot of sense. Your friends were taken _after_ you came here. But why did you come here?”

“Well… I… I really… don’t know. Curiosity maybe. Heard stories of this place, wanted to see if they were true. But if I’m honest, I think you already know the reason. I wanted to die.”

“Why?”

“Why else, look at me. I’m old, and whether I like it or not… my body’s dying. I supposed… I wanted one last ride before I go.”

But Christine cut him right off with slap right across the face. It stunned him. It didn’t really hurt yet he could feel the full force of her palm’s strike.

“You’re a selfish asshole,” she said, “you know that? If you wanted to die so badly then why don’t you just shoot yourself in the head? You just had to go to this place and drag everybody else with you to this hellhole, huh? Tell me the truth, why did you come here? Did you come here because of greed or… or are you just crazy?”

Sol heard a voice inside his head: _stop lying to yourself. You don’t even remember the reason why you wanted to die in the first place. Ever since that rapscallion Benny shot you in the head you’ve changed. This isn’t you wanting to die, not at all. This… this is something else, you can feel it, too right? The new surge of energy shooting through your body. Not even someone young like Boone has this kind of energy. This energy, it was the one that told you to follow the radio signal. It was the one that led you here despite you knowing very well that the Sierra Madre was a monster. You came here regardless. This energy… it’s… it's_ _…_ _the spirit of Adventure._

It didn’t matter none now, they were still in the Madre, and he still needed to rescue his friends.

 _“_ Christine… I… I… I’m… I’m sorry. I know… I know that you think that I’m selfish and a jerk. That part is true… but what’s also true is that… I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to die, or at least that was the old me. It was in the past and I’m not sure how true it still holds today. You have to believe me, it’s the truth, I wasn’t lying about that. And I didn’t lie about my promise of finding my friends either, I will find them, I will find her. Or I’ll just die off so that… at least the people around me wouldn’t have to suffer for my actions anymore.”

 

 

 

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Christine said, “what is that long stick you’re carrying?”

She referred to the long stick that was wrapped in leather that Sol was carrying on his back when he came into the Casino after the Gala event.

“This thing? Heh…” Sol smiled, “here, I’ll show you.”

He unwrapped the leather around the stick and showed it to her. The expression on her face was a mixture of pure shock and disbelief plus a little of jaw dropping on the side. Her eyes almost popped out of her head.

“It’s no anti-material rifle but I guess it will have to do."

“What… in the actual… fuck?” Christine nearly shouted.

It was a bolt action hunting rifle with a fully functional scope attached on the top. The wooden handle was smooth like butter and the metal muzzle was as beautiful as silver, despite it actually being put together by a roll of duct tape. The scope also had a small piece of string wrapped around it. Sol handed it to Christine for her to see. She felt the smoothness of the side of the gun and the trigger was also functioning properly, wasn’t too tight or too loose. The scope also had a surprising good amount of zoom.

“But… but… but how?”

“Well, I found some holotapes with some data on an upgrade for some sort of energy weapon while I was scavenging around. The data included some focus optics, calibration, improved components and also a scope. These schematics allowed me to get these things from the vending machines. But I had to make my own modifications since the energy weapon base model was different than a regular rifle’s model. Plus I had to save my chips to get some food.”

“Why didn’t you just use the base model of the energy weapon instead of crafting a new weapon from scratch?” She asked.

“Well the thing is… the material used to make the energy weapon is pretty rare. And besides, I’m more comfortable using a rifle anyway. Even though I have no problem using an energy weapon, I just don’t usually fight with energy weapons. Instead I build traps out of them.”

“Wait, what?”

“Ah… it’s complicated, I’ll tell you about it later,” Sol said, he then looked beyond to the hall in front of them.

They were in a place called the Tampico Theater. It was a complex maze with many doors that at first seemed to be leading to different places but in fact just ultimately led to the main stage in the back. They walked past the reception counter and noticed a few charred skeletons. Poor souls, Sol thought, must be the security guards here.

“There,” Sol said, pointing at the wall from afar.

“Huh, speakers,” Christine said, “red ones, too. That means they can’t be destroyed by anything, not bullets or knives or spears. They need to be shut down otherwise these things around our necks is going to go nuts.”

“That’s true,” Sol said, “but those speakers also serve another purpose.”

Christine looked confused. Sol explained:

“I had a chance to examine one of the broken speakers I destroyed. Apparently there’s some sort of data recorded inside about some kind of photon based energy and it was connected straight to its radio communication function.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that those red speakers have the ability to alert nearby security holograms. I came to this conclusion after I’ve analyzed the data on those sources of photon energy and turns out they're quite similar to the properties of a security hologram. The speaker also has database within itself so that it could detect any projectiles fired at it and then alert any nearby holograms. It will detect anything ranging from a .357 magnum round to a spear thrown at it.”

“Yikes,” Christine cried, “whoever was the maniac that thought of this security system must have had some serious trust issues.”

“True… however,” Sol said with a grin on his face, “ha-ha, I managed to take a look at some files in a terminal in the offices in the back. I found a schematics of the layout of the Casino and apparently the Tampico is the one place with the most hologram concentration in the entire complex.”

“Damn, It’s already difficult enough to try and sneak past the speakers let alone the holograms,” she commented.

“Ha-ha,” Sol laughed, “luckily for me, I managed to find a work around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, when I was at the Police Station I found some interesting documents regarding the database of the speakers. They only recognize bullets and projectiles that came from within the Madre itself. Anything foreign will simply mess up the database and would simply return with an error message. This is due to the fact that any foreign substance entering the Sierra Madre will be removed immediately from the Casino by the security system… unless… said foreign object is crafted from within the Madre.”

Sol held up the rifle and pulled the bolt back. He grabbed a pile of bullets from his pockets and inserted them into the rifle. They were .50 caliber rounds.

“12.7mm,” Sol said, “I didn’t have much material to work with. I had to salvage the casings from the .308 rounds I found then melt it down to make new casings. These aren’t as powerful as standard .50 caliber rounds but I guess they will have to do. The vending machines may have infinite potential but it’s still just a computer that requires schematics and data for it to function. This is how I was able to avoid the holograms in this godforsaken place. The computers just don’t recognize these types of bullets.”

“For real?”

“Yup,” he grinned, “although we better get Dean out of this place as fast as we can. I’m running out of bullets. Plus I’m really hungry right now.”

But before the two of them could even move from their position, a loud thud echoed beyond the hall. The doors – all of them – suddenly opened wide up. They peeked behind the wall to see the door opening up to the stage of the theater. There were lights on the stage, red curtains drawn to the side, with tables and chairs were set up all around.

They heard a voice:

“ _Welcome ladies and gentlemen, actors, singers and tourists alike, please take your seats now… the show’s about to start very soon. You wouldn’t want to miss what happens next.”_

The two rushed towards the theater to avoid the speakers.

The theater was empty when Sol and Christine entered. There were booze and whiskey bottles lying all around the place, also ashtrays with charred cigarettes that had been here for at least a few decades. There was nobody on stage but up above over the right there was a small balcony, there were probably stairs backstage leading up there and from the shadows… he came.

“So… you finally came… traitor…”

He stood taller than both of them, he looked down onto them. His pair of shades was sharper, he didn’t wield a gun and yet Sol could feel his overwhelming dominion.

“You know,” Dean said, “it was actually quite fortunate of me when the Old man assigned me to that rooftop to fix the wiring, because it gave me some time to think about all of this, about us… about you.”

“Me?” Sol asked confusedly.

“Yeah, think you’re going to up-stage me, here at the Madre? Hah, I don't think so. Now that I’m finally here… I see very little use of you. As the matter of fact, when you appointed yourself de facto leader of our little group, I thought that you hadn’t been contributing much. I mean, we all shared our side of our personal stories, all of us contributed… except you.”

Dean pointed his finger at Sol, it felt like an arrow piercing his heart. Dean continued:

“You go around interrogating people, acting all high and mighty as if you’re some kind of saint. Well news flash, you’re not. Nobody is a saint here, we are all sinners.

“Dean, I… listen I…”

“No _you_ listen,” he shouted, “I’ve had enough of you and your snobbish little attitude. _We had a deal!_ And you just had to go ahead and throw it out the window. You disgust me!”

“Dean,” Christine said, “you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Would you look at that, the girl finally talks, bravo! Give her a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen. So you admit it… you’ve been faking it all along.”

“No Dean,” she denied, “I was only able to get my voice back recently.”

“Save your breath,” Dean said, but then began to laugh, it made Sol and Christine confused, “oh well, I guess it’s no use hiding now. I _was_ going to use you to get in the Madre anyway, so might as well tell you now, you’ll learn sooner or later.”

“What…” she asked naively, “what are you saying?”

Dean laughed:

“Can’t you see? _I was the one who put you in the Auto-Doc in the Medical District._ It was all part of my plan!”

Sol and Christine couldn’t help but drop their jaw to the floor. All this time, right beneath their noses. He was there, that arrogant bastard. He seemed harmless enough, he was just a clueless jerk. How much trouble could he really cause? They told themselves. But now they could clearly see… the malice in his eyes.

“I've already spent too much time trying to get into this place,” Dean said, “I refuse to be stopped by the likes of someone like you. As soon as I finished fixing the wiring, I heard the ‘ _music’_ and I knew that the locals were coming. There was no way I’d let you be the first to walk into the front door after Vera’s speech. Ha-ha… and do you know what the most ironic thing about this was? That you were right… all along, I did stayed here at the Madre for hundreds of years, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. I'd occasionally leave the Casino to get supplies from the outside world but most of the time… the Villa was my home. It was only until that stupid Mutant got his hands on me did I had to make a change of plan. No longer could I enter the Casino alone anymore.”

“You… you were here… all this time? Even after the bombs fell?”

“Every second,” Dean smirked, “and even before the bombs fell, I needed to take drastic measures and come up with a plan in order to get in here. That girl there was supposed to be the key. That was the plan. Not the original plan of course. Many sacrifices were made for me to get into this place.”

“What do you mean?” Sol asked.

“The girl at the fountain… Vera Keyes, Ghost in name and image. Still a looker, though. I knew her. She was the most important part of this plan. Believe it or not, the Sierra Madre is not just a Casino. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a fortress. Built by a man named Fredrick Sinclair. Why did he build this place you might ask? Well, it was all because of her, Vera. He… practically worshiped the girl, he loved her with all his heart. Well, at least he was supposed to. He was not an idiot, though. He saw the Great War coming from a mile away, but he wasn’t about to let that get in the way of his goal… so he built this Casino… just for her. To protect the love he dedicated to her.”

“I still don’t get it,” Christine muttered weakly, “what… do I have to do with any of this?”

“Well…” Dean explained, “Sinclair had always been a paranoid little prick. He built this place tighter than a Gordian Knot, only this time we didn’t have a sword to cut it in half.”

“Wait,” Sol said, trying to follow the story, “ _we?_ ”

“Yes… Vera and I… I introduced her to Sinclair… we were going to rob him you see. All of this, the Casino… was nothing but a display of the massive ego of that bastard Fredrick Sinclair. I couldn’t let this stand. I had to do something, the way he smiled… the way he dedicated all of this to her… it sickened me, and still do to this day. Nothing but an unhealthy obsession. We were going to kill that obsession… by robbing him. Of course that was no simple task, the security of this place was absolutely absurd, and worst of all was that the underground vault of the Madre could not be opened unless… a certain key was there to unlock it. Or should I say a certain Keyes… Vera – it was her voice, her voice was the key to unlocking it.”

Christine touched her throat, only just now realizing how important her new vocal cord was. Dean’s eyes turned dark, he said:

“I’ve spent too much time, efforts and sacrificed too much for this moment. This… all of this… for over 200 years. So I am NOT about to let some old fart and his little cowboy ranger ruin this for me!”

“What the…”

A loud siren pierced their ears. They were surrounded, the halls lit up. One, two, no three. No… at least seven security holograms. At first glance they looked just like normal security guards, they shone bright and they didn’t talk. Just looking at them would bring out the temptation to shoot at them. That was where most people made their mistakes. They were absolutely invincible, bullets couldn’t hurt them, energy blast couldn’t faze them. They walked silently and they did their duties.

One of them raised its arms over its forehead and began to shine, it was charging up its energy reserves. When it fired… the energy burnt like purgatory.

“Crap!” Sol howled, he immediately fired his rifle at the hologram. It of course wasn’t fazed by the attack. Only slightly confused due to an encounter with a foreign object.

“You betrayed me!” Dean screamed at them, “We had a deal. The Old man… we… we were going to get rid of him. The vault… under the Madre. It has secrets that not even you could begin to comprehend. Do you realize how dangerous he’d be if gets his hands on…”

Dean was cut off short when Sol decided to fire one of his bullets just short of Dean’s head. It went right on the side of his cheek, leaving a small scratch.

“Just… shut the fuck up!” Sol yelled angrily, “Look at you Dean! You ridicule this Sinclair for being an arrogant obsessive prick. And yet… you yourself spent hundreds of years… obsessed with the treasure of this Casino. As far as I’m concerned you're the only arrogant prick here!”

Sol and Christine tried to dodge the laser projectiles from the holograms. He jumped over the tables and pushed it forward to make a small barricade in front of them for cover. He fired shot after shot at the holograms and yet not even a scratch.

“Just take a look at yourself, Dean…” Sol shouted, still hiding behind the table, “you… you never cared for anyone. You used people like tools.”

“You wouldn’t understand…” Dean said, “People like you could ever understand. This is my pride, my passion. It’s all I have left. I worked hard for this moment, Vera knew it, too. But she… she was weak… it forced me to be strong. I never wanted to do it… to use her like a tool, I… I… I… if Vera hadn’t been a chem addict, things would’ve been different. She was weak… and that was her own fault, I… I never wanted to do it. But… I have nothing left. Can’t you see? I will do anything… to be victorious!”

“Did you even consider the cost, the consequences of that victory?” Sol said, “Vera… she was sick… how could you… how could you even demand such a thing?”

“What?”

“She was terminally ill…” Sol explained, “I… I saw it in her room, the data on her Auto-Doc. That’s why she took the chems, the Med-X. It was to relief her pain.”

Dean pondered on this fact for a whole long minute. He looked at himself… at his own palms. Wondering about his past actions. He took off his shades and the look in his eyes… was disbelief and uncertainty.

“I… I…” Dean stuttered, “I… never knew.”

“That’s because you never bothered,” Sol told him, “you never stopped to consider the people around you. You were greedy… consumed by the promises and fortune of the Sierra Madre.”

The holograms continued firing at them which made it incredibly difficult to talk. And yet Sol still managed to yell at the top of his lungs:

“But it doesn’t have to be this way! Stop clinging on to the old treasure of the Old World. It’s all in the past now. Think about it, it’s been nearly 200 years. Sinclair… he’s no more… Vera… she’s already left this world. And the Sierra Madre… an Old World relic that is already dead. Don’t live in the past anymore, Dean. Just… let go.”

“SOL!” Christine screamed as the holograms got closer and fired their laser beams more vigorously. The table in front of them was on the verge of rupturing. Christine tried to hold them off with a few shots from her pistol but none of them seemed to work.

“The speakers!” Sol said, “I’ll try to disrupt the speakers.”

“LOOK OUT!”

A hologram raised its arm over its head and charged furiously. Its laser beam was burning the fire of the hell of this Casino. Sol expected the blast to pierce the table and yet… all he heard was a loud siren. It was as if the holograms were malfunctioning or something.

But when the two of them looked up, they saw the speakers… breaking down. Electrical circuits were blasting all over its surface, it was disrupting the radio waves. It was still not completely destroyed but it still sustained severe damage. The malfunction was due to repeating bullets hitting at it. When he turned… he saw him from the shadows.

The old ghoul fired repeatedly with his pistol at both the holograms and the speakers on the wall. It was not very effective but it at least created some distraction. The holograms were furious but they were also confused.

Dean took advantage of this chance, he took a long step back and then leaped gracefully over the balcony where he stood. He was practically flying like a great eagle despite constantly complaining about his weak knees.

This created enough distraction for the three of them to make a run for it. The holograms were still following them firing their lasers. Sol pulled the trigger on them, emptying his magazine, it disrupted them slightly.

“Why?” Dean asked while they ran, “Why did you do this to me? I worked so hard… my plan…”

“You reap what you sow,” Sol said, “you never trusted anyone, you used them… betrayed them. And this is what betrayal feels like. I’m not trying to stop you Dean… I’m just telling you to be cautious. This obsession… it’s corrupting you… but you don’t have to endure it anymore. All you have to do… is let it all go.”


	40. The City of Gold

His lungs were hurting again, it was getting even worse. At this rate it'll be collapsing before he could even get to the vault.

The truth was… the reason for all of his overwhelming power, the reason why he had always been able to kill monsters so easily with just a small revolver… the reason for his immense skills – was simply because he had always been completely reckless.

Back when he began his training as a ranger in the NCR, almost every single NCR trooper noted Sol of his overwhelming talent. He passed all the tests with flying colors, both written exams and field work. He started his training when he was only sixteen years old and it only took him 10 years before he was promoted to the ranks of the rangers. As oppose to usual tradition that a trooper needed at least 20 years of experience before they could even think about joining the Desert Rangers.

But he never actually started any official missions as a ranger. He left the NCR on the same day he was promoted.

Still young and yet full of talent, he was seeking one thing and one thing only… power.

He developed a serum, crafted from all the knowledge he gained while he served the NCR. It was only when he left did he finally manage to perfect it. Similar to how you’d make a Slasher serum, only the process was a little different. He called it Kapz. He thought it’d be funny, and would be an easy way to avoid the authorities when referring to the drug (since this stuff was anything but legal). But then he realized that he had always traveled alone and this was the wasteland, there were no authorities.

This serum… was superior in every single way conceivable when compared to the Slasher. It boosted strength, agility and endurance and even one’s senses and perception of time. While at the same time increasing as little muscle bulk as possible.

It was perfect… save for two crucial side effects.

The first was that the chemicals within the serum caused a reaction within one’s brain. Although it will not actually harm the subject, it will temporarily change the color of the user’s iris into a sparkling red. Like a celestial burning star, strong and bright in the dark cosmos around.

The second side effect… although the serum had proven to leave no negative side effect on a healthy individual. A subject with developing cancerous cells however…

He ran the tests, he revised his symptoms and there was no other way around it. The Kapz while immense in power also exponentially multiplied the cancer cells within himself.

He was forced to synthesize some new medicines. The cigarettes – they were practically the only thing keeping his lungs from collapsing. And over the years he started to use Kapz less and less every day. It got so bad that at one point he was forced to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes and sleep off the pain. It still hurt in the morning.

“Are you okay?” Christine asked, “You’ve been coughing for awhile now, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sol said through his hoarse voice, “come on, the Sierra Madre is not going to wait.”

 

 

 

 

“Well… I guess all that’s left is the Madre’s Vault,” Christine said, looking at the elevator before them, “Dean?”

“Yeah?” He said dryly.

“You said that my voice… was the key. So do I need to say a phrase… or something?”

“Yup…” he replied, “Elevator here’s made exclusive for the Executive Suites. Voice activated, speak the right phrase in the right tone of voice and it’s open sesame. Here’s the clue… it’s a part of a song, Miss Vera Keyes’ song.”

“Do you have the song?” She asked.

“I do,” Sol answered her, “I’ve got it here in my Pip-Boy. Snagged it off the terminal downstairs at the reception. It’s got all the soundtrack right here.”

“Purr-fect,” Dean rolled his tongue, “now you just need to piece together the right phrase from the song and the Madre will open its legs and then… we’re in business.”

“Goddamn,” Sol commented, “this Casino sure was built by a nutjob. I mean… all of this for her?”

“Love makes people do strange things,” Christine said, looking a bit sad, “it drives you crazy if you can’t… connect. If they loved each other and they were together… I suppose that’s all that really mattered in the end.”

The three of them stood there, feeling the tension of the Sierra Madre’s dark blood. They felt it, running through the walls was the sorrows of the dead. This was love’s sorrows, both Sinclair’s and Vera’s. How did it all come to this?

“Come on, guys,” Sol said, “let’s go.”

But Christine and Dean did not budge. Which made Sol confused. He looked at them in the eyes. They seemed a bit… tired, exhausted.

“Sol,” Christine said with the same sad tone, “I… I think that you should go down there… to face him alone.”

“Why?”

“The old fart,” Dean said, “if we all go down there… he’s just going to press the button on our little metal bow ties and blow our minds… literally. But if you go down there by yourself… there’s a chance that you could convince him that we somehow someway managed to find a way to deactivate our collars rendering his little schemes useless.”

“But…”

Christine cut him off before he could object:

“It’s okay Sol, go… we’ll only slow you down.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean smiled wryly, “we’ll monitor you using the terminals up here.”

Sol wondered why he was feeling depressed about this and why he wanted to object and take them along with him.

She grabbed him by the shoulder and smiled just a bit. As if trying to cheer him up.

“Just… just promise me one thing, okay?”

“Huh? Oh… sure, anything for you.”

“If you find her, could you… could you please tell Ronnie that I’ve always loved her, and that is something that will never change.”

 

 

 

 

He finally managed to reach the vault, what a pain that was. There was even more security down here, speakers, emitters, holograms you name it. He couldn’t even walk over to the corner to take a piss without being bothered by a hologram walking by.

It was a big room the vault was. On the left was a bunch of scraps laying on top of some chemistry sets and a pile of screwdrivers, hammers and nails. In the back there was a terminal.

But what really caught his eyes were the things on his right. Gold.

Gold in bars. Solid and smooth, straight-edged golden bars with the 999.9 engraved onto the surface – 24 karats of pure beautiful gold.

Sol stood there stunned for a whole long minute. He had never seen gold before in entire whole life. He picked up one of the bars. It was heavy, but it was smooth, it was pure. He could feel it pouring into his veins from the palm of his hand.

He was not sure what it was about all of these gold bars… were they speaking to him? He wondered… Trapped in this vault for so long, the gold… they shone like stars and when he held it in his palms he could hear them calling… it was the same call the Sierra Madre had screamed across the wasteland to summon travelers to this Casino. He wasn’t holding the gold… the gold was holding him – his heart.

It would be so easy… to just take them. I mean, there’s nobody here to stop me, he thought to himself. Sinclair was dead and so was Vera. It would be so easy to take them… to take them… take them. _Come on_ … _what are you waiting for? Think of all the caps you can get from all of this. You’ll live like a king, no… you’ll BE a king. This… this is what it’s all about, this is the promise the Sierra Madre made to all travelers. To begin again, think of all the things you can do with all these gold bars._

But Sol shook his head and gave himself a huge slap across the face to wake himself up. It was only then did he realize that he didn’t need gold or caps. He never did, and never will.

“ _BEAUTIFUL, ISN’T IT?”_

A loud boom exploded across the room as a computer screen popped out from right behind the terminal on the table. The Old man, Elijah. His face… old and filthy just like back at the fountain.

“You… you’re in the vault… finally… all this time. The Sierra Madre… mine. You must be careful, the computer systems are still very intricate. One wrong step and you’ll activate another security protocol.”

“So, you’ve finally done it after all this time, eh? Congratulation, your ma must be proud.” Sol said sarcastically, he learnt it from Raul.

“Don’t patronize me you simple fool,” Elijah said, “remember that I still have my finger on the trigger and I could blow your brain out any time I want.”

“Blow my brain out? Don’t make me laugh. Your pathetic little collar busted its fuse long ago,” Sol bluffed, hoping it would work, “the circuits overheated. We managed to figure out a way to disable it.”

“You’re lying,” Elijah denied in an instant, “my collars are designed perfectly. It’s flawless. There is no way in hell a simple fool like you could disable it.”

“Simple fool like me?” Sol laughed condescendingly, “I guess you don’t really know who you’re going up against, do you?”

“I know exactly who I’m up against… _murderer!”_

“What was that?”

“Do you think that I am stupid?” Elijah asked, “Do you really think that I could forget what happened five years ago? And did you honestly think that I don’t remember the face of the monster who murdered my chapter? My Brotherhood?”

Sol didn’t answer, Father Elijah yelled:

“I know it’s you, the one they call the Red Eye.”

“Then you know very well that I can’t be killed by normal means.”

“Yes… of course. You are… a tough one to crack. But… not impossible to crack. Heh, I was honestly surprised when I found you here of all places. I didn’t believe it at first, the security system took away your duster and left you with just a jumpsuit. You seemed… weak, scrawny, there was no way that this was the man who murdered half of a Brotherhood chapter. But now… here you are, in the heart of the Sierra Madre itself. I could’ve rigged the security system of this place to kill you… but alas, I need the things that lie within the heart of this Casino.”

“Well then, that’s unfortunate. Because I wonder… what is there really to stop me from taking all of these data for myself and destroy them as I walk out of here. I heard stories of you, Old man. You’re a techno-wiz. A nutjob with a fetish with technology. You want this place… for its technological marvel, am I right? Vending machines, holograms, speakers, and so on. I wonder why, though.”

“Why else? All to make this world a better place. I… I will wipe the slate clean. The Madre can give me that. Food, water, supplies. Even printing new currencies. The vending machine can do that, after all it’s just a computer system. It can be reprogrammed. I will get rid of all… impurities of the land. Starting with the New California Republic… and _you!_ ”

“You want to attack the NCR? All of them?” Sol asked, thinking it was absurd.

“No, not attack… like I said, wipe the slate clean. Make the Mojave like it was meant to be… undisturbed by man. I'll send the Cloud, the Holograms. Bring ruin in my hands until only I stand atop the HELIOS One tower again. I'll scour Hoover Dam with the Cloud, rain its walls with spears from the sun... with an army of Old World ghosts behind me, Holograms all. I'll kill them until it's only me, me alone... in a quiet world. In a world that's nothing like what happened at HELIOS One. Fire, blood, beneath the sun... a sun so close you could touch it… this time… this time for sure. I will have the power of the sun in the palms of my hands.”

“Um, knock, knock. Earth to Elijah,” Sol said, “last I checked, I’m still down here with all of these technologies… and you are up there. Hiding behind a computer screen like a coward.”

“It matters not,” Elijah claimed confidently, “after all, all it takes is a certain leverage… to get the cogs going.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see you’ve been travelling… a long way. And no doubt you’ve picked up a few… acquaintances along the way. It’d be a shame if… something were to happen to them.”

Sol widened his eyes almost on the verge of shouting in rage. But he quickly collected himself and calmed down. He tried to think this through and piece all the clues together.

“You’re… you’re bluffing,” Sol concluded, “I’ve already scoured the ruins of the Casino, inch by inch, too. You’re a very arrogant bastard, but you are not stupid. You know that the probability of breaking into the Sierra Madre would decrease tremendously if you were to not personally participate in helping with the heist. So it’s either that you’re so arrogant and stupid and that you won’t even bother helping your little ‘ _lab rats’_ in the heist… or you’re simply trapped… in the Madre itself. That's why my Pip-Boy couldn't pick up your location, you were deep within this place. Frequencies were blocked through thick walls and security systems… you can’t get out… can you? And you’re only able to give orders through the fountain. There is no way in hell that you can physically make contact with any of my friends, nor can you make contact with any of the other _subjects_ that Dog the Super Mutant kept dragging in. now tell me if I am wrong.”

The image on the screen wasn’t very clear, but Sol could clearly see that Elijah was gaping in shock of his deduction skills. In the end he had no choice but to give in.

“Alright, you got me…” Elijah said, “I… I was only able to briefly contact the prisoners the Mutant brought in. You said his name was Dog right? Huh… never knew that… fitting… anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is that when I am trapped in this labyrinth… I simply do not have access or control over new prisoners and bodies from the Mojave wasteland that Dog brings in. And he keeps bringing them in, I never told him to stop following the orders. Now obviously he couldn’t bring all of them here to the Madre, so he left them at a little bunker near the Colorado River. Luckily I was able to make contact with them using my terminal. Although the images weren’t as clear as I wanted, it did its job. It's similar to how I was able to project my face back at the fountain, simple hologram technology. Heh, some of the prisoners even thought that I was physically there myself, like a ghost of sort. The lights in the bunker must have been a bit dark.”

“Hah,” Sol chuckled, “you really are a senile old fart who lost his mind long ago. You do know that one of the prisoners that Dog caught was Veronica Santangelo of the Brotherhood right? The girl who adored you so much that she pretty much saw you as a grandfather? Remember her?”

“Veronica… she... survived HELIOS. She would. Resourceful. I talked to her… she’s… grown up well.”

“And you were going to use her to blackmail me?” Sol laughed almost sinisterly, “You make me sick. All the more reason for me to take all the data from the vault and leave this place forever. Losing the Madre forever would not sit well with you I assume.”

Sol could hear Elijah growling through the computer screen in front of him:

“I should never have gone through with this without perfecting the collars. I'm coming down, forget the Sierra Madre security. I'll find you myself,” he said desperately, “I won’t let you get away with MY Casino. Just you wait.”

With that Elijah shut off his terminal and the computer screen blacked out. Sol was able to quickly download all the files off the terminal into a holodisk. All the data about the Sierra Madre, all its archives, its history. He then put the holodisk into his Pip-Boy then proceeded to delete everything from the same terminal.


	41. Let Go and Begin Again

He still had one serum of Kapz left. Although he didn’t have the materials to synthesize his cigarettes, there were enough materials around to make Kapz. The process and the ingredients were a lot simpler. You’d usually have to mix in a Med-x serum, a Stimpak, and add in a poisonous substance. Depending on the poison, it will enhance the effects of the Med-x while being neutralized by the Stimpak which in the end will produce tremendous results. At least that was the basic concept of it, actually making it was another matter.

He tried it with the toxin in the Cloud and although the Cloud was corrosive in nature instead of poisonous, the synthesis was still successful. Just not as potent as other poison he’d tested.

That said, his lungs were still burning like fire. He started to cough more often. Elijah was coming down, too. The Old man was a delusional old fart, he'll probably try to kill Sol. Trying to reason with him now? It was probably near impossible.

Sol scanned the area outside the vault to see if he could use anything to his advantage. There was a couple of turrets all around the area. He could turn them on but that would mean the turrets would target both Elijah and himself. Programming it to lock onto Elijah would probably take awhile and he didn’t have that much time to begin with.

Bingo! There! The force fields all around, Elijah was bound to go through at least one of those doors. Sol was thinking he could sneak around him and trap him behind the force fields. Yeah, that could work.

Elijah was going to be here any second now, but… why… why couldn’t I move my feet? Sol wondered.

His guts were tingling, vibrating like it had been zapped with electricity. Somehow… he was pumped. Despite his lungs being nearly crushed at this point. He grinned, but just a bit. He slapped himself on the forehead, disappointed at himself. Once again… he prayed to Lady Luck.

This is it, no going back now! That was what he told himself before he yanked out from his pocket the last serum of Kapz and then forcefully jammed the needle into his right thigh. He groaned as he injected the substance into his body. He felt a surge of incredible energy, his muscles became tense as it rippled, hardened up like a rock. His chest began to burn even more furiously. He could feel the last ounce of his life seeping out of his body, and he was breathing even faster now, breathing his last breaths. And then his eyes… they were burning fiery red. The awakening of the Red Eye.

He took out his revolver, emptied the cylinder and inserted a single bullet in. He spun the cylinder then locked it in place. He stretched his arm forward and aimed at one of the doorways.

It took a few minutes before he could spot a shadow from one of the halls on the right. He was coming. Sol began to breathe in slowly, trying to get the most out of his nearly collapsed lungs. He knew that with his unsteady breathing he’d only have this one shot.

The moment the mad Elder stepped out of the door and into the vault Sol instantly pulled the trigger, the sound was deafening. It was so fast… the wind was torn in its strength. But…

The bullet hit one of the metal bars just a few inches above Elijah’s brain. Fuck!

The Old man didn’t hesitate for even a second. He pulled out a strange energy weapon that Sol had never encountered before in the wasteland. When Elijah fired, the rifle roared a bolt of potent energy. The size of the projectile was massive, it was almost as if it was a shotgun. Sol managed to roll on the floor and dodged it, just barely. The bolt of energy immediately melted the pipes behind him.

It was no good, Sol’s speculation was right. It was a type of energy shotgun, and an accurate one at that. The fire rate of this thing was mind-boggling. The Old man fired three more energy bolts in a blink of an eye. Sol managed to take cover behind a metal plate but he could still feel the heat behind the metal.

Four shots, Sol counted in his head before he heard the sound of Elijah struggling to reload the energy cells into the rifle. Now’s my chance, he thought.

And not a moment wasted, he charged out from the metal plate and lunged himself at the Old man who was still struggling with his gun. Sol grabbed him right by the back of his neck and forcefully pulled his head down for a devastating knee strike, crushing Elijah’s teeth.

Sol hadn’t brawled for awhile, his close quarter combat skills were getting kind of rusty. But it was slowly coming back to him. He felt like this before. It reminded him of someone… he wasn't sure who.

Sol followed up by a quick one-two punch and a massive uppercut to the Old man. Blood were spurting from his mouth and Sol could hear him growling in pain.

 _One more!_ Sol thought as he lunged in for a knockout punch only to suddenly feel a fiery heat burning at his guts. It was like a battering ram crushing his lungs. He coughed up blood, and was pushed back so hard he flew right into the wall. He gritted his teeth, trying to subdue the burning hammer that was destroying his chest.

Sol looked up and saw the smoke coming from Elijah’s rifle. What a monstrous weapon, he thought. Another one of those shots and it would’ve melted his rib cage for sure. Sol felt his body starting to go numb, his chest beating like a hammer and his breathing getting shorter and shorter. He coughed up even more blood, trickling down his chin like a waterfall.

“Not only,” Elijah muttered, trying regain balance from the brawl, “… not only am I going to kill you… I’m going to spray your tiny little brain across this place. I’m going to do what the collars couldn’t do. You’ll be a sacrifice… a sacrifice for the Sierra Madre,” Elijah placed his rifle on Sol’s dome, prepared to fire.

But Sol managed to muster the last ounce of his energy, forcing his way through with sheer willpower as he smacked the rifle to the side and delivered a punch so massive that made Elijah practically vomit blood.

“Not… today, you greedy bastard!” Sol shouted.

He quickly delivered a swift elbow strike to the side of Elijah's head, followed by a kick to the gut and another massive knee to his jaw, completely shattering the remaining of his teeth.

“You wanted the Madre so badly… then you can have it!” And with that he delivered a final devastating kick to the side of Elijah’s head using his shin, smashing him so hard it sent Elijah flying to the floor. Head first diving onto the metal platform.

A quick remodeling of the system allowed him to connect the wires at the doorway together, before long the force field that shielded the doorway was reactivated. And with Elijah’s unconscious body lying at the metal platform, Sol took one last look at the place, took in another deep breath and left for the elevator.

Just when he thought he was going to make it out, his body started to collapse on the way there. He grabbed at his chest and breathed heavily. Trying as hard as possible to not waste any ounce of oxygen. But no matter how hard he tried his body wouldn’t budge.

And it just kept getting _better_ , he started hearing the alarm sound of the security system from within the vault. The place was falling apart, the sharp siren was roaring through these metal halls. After all… Sol didn’t think that the treasures of this vault were something to be taken anywhere else other than the vault itself. Sinclair had made sure of that… the Sierra Madre had made sure of that.

So this was it, this was how he was going to die. Buried beneath an Old World casino, a place filled with treasures and promises. Promises of new beginnings and new prosperity. A City of Gold… fitting.

Sol thought: _I guess… I guess I've accomplished what I came here to do in the first place._ He spat out a mouthful of blood, staining the walls like paint.

“Heh… figures…” he then closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable…

“… _S… zzz… SOL… you there?”_

The shout from his Pip-Boy woke him up. Christine must have somehow managed to use the terminal upstairs to contact him through some sort of radio perhaps. Clever girl.

“ _Sol, are you alright?”_ Christine shouted through his Pip-Boy, “ _I heard a loud explosion or something, what’s going on down there? What happened to Elijah?”_

 _“_ Don’t worry, Christine. Elijah… let’s just say the Old man… got what he wanted. The Sierra Madre will not let him go now. He… finally cashed in…”

Christine was quiet for a bit, as if thinking. Sol couldn’t tell whether she felt happy that a murderous psycho like Elijah was dead, or if she was feeling… conflicted, responsible because she had got Brotherhood’s blood on her hands. Or maybe she was just bummed out that she didn’t get to kill the bastard herself.

“ _… Howdy, how ya doin’… Partner?”_

“Well… if it isn’t Dean Domino, the lying, cheating bastard of a singer…”

“ _Hah… the one and only…”_ Dean smirked, “… _soooo… you’ve finally beaten the Old man. You turned on him when he wasn't looking and gave him a huge slap to the face, I assume.”_

 _“_ More like a punch, actually, but yeah, pretty much.”

“ _HA HA HA_ …” Dean burst out laughing, “ _I knew from the moment we met that I’ve hit a jackpot with you.”_

 _“_ Right, sure you did,” the alarm sound was getting louder, but Sol didn’t mind it one bit.

“Christine…” Sol said to his Pip-Boy.

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“It’s… it’s beautiful down here… you know,” he said, “I wish you could see it. There’s the Villa. I can see the people… tourists, gamblers, celebrities… actors, singers… all of them. They’re here… to begin again. Look at them… they’re… standing in myth, in legend. I wish you could see it.”

Christine didn’t answer to his ramblings, Sol went on:

“I suppose… I won’t be able to do that one favor for you, Christine. They’re not here… they’re back at an old bunker… one of Elijah’s hideout. I guess… I’m going to have to ask you to do me a favor this time… please… please tell everyone that… um… I… I’ve enjoyed the company of each and every one of them. That will be something that I will cherish forever… and tell Ver… tell Ronnie… that she’s… um… how do I say this… she’s… a… a good person and that I…”

“ _SHUT UP!”_ Christine’s passionate voice suddenly knocked Sol out of his endless rambling, “Y _ou’re being a selfish jerk again… you idiot. It’s obvious that you still have things about Ronnie… things about your friends that you still need to get off your chest. So why don’t you get up from your stupid ass and go tell them yourself. I won’t let you die here, not before… you see them again… even if I have to kill a thousand holograms, even if I have to fight off a thousand Ghost People, even if I have to die, I will make sure that you come out of this alive and that’s a promise... Don’t you forget it!”_

And for that moment, Sol finally remembered. At last. He smiled, grateful that Christine was there to guide him back to the right path again. He knees were crumbling, his lungs were collapsing, but it didn’t matter. None of it did.


	42. ENDING: Dead Money

Dog, Christine, Dean and Sol gathered at the fountain for one last meeting. In the end, the collars' silence made them uneasy at first, and the fear of turning on each other made them hesitate, but they knew better.

Sol managed to calm them down. It took quite a long while before he could figure out how to disable the modules that linked their collars together. Once the collars were off all of them threw it into the pool of the fountain, determined to forget about the dreadful times the cold metal were at their throats.

* * *

 

**Dog/God:**

Dog forgot himself, as did the voice that raged within him. After their passing, a new voice spoke within the mutant's shell. It was difficult for the voice to remember the two it once was... there was the beast, Dog consumed by hunger... ...and the other in reverse... the one consumed by control. Both were driven by need for the other. The ranger who fixed up both of them somehow, joined the two into one. All that happened at the Sierra Madre, was a faint memory to the new personality... like a flickering light in the clouds of the mind.

Dog offered the crew a ride on a small wooden wagon back to the bunker where he had taken the three of them. It was a long ride, and the roads were sharp with rocks, but Dog didn’t mind. After he bid them farewell, he headed off into the Mojave wasteland to live again as neither Dog nor God; but a brand new life as he was finally able to begin anew.

Dog was grateful of the old ranger, but at the same time, he pitied him. He saw right away that something within the ranger was missing. As if his heart… his soul were missing a huge part of them. No matter how hard he tried, he could not die. Not until he finds his other half. And the mutant prayed the man that had saved him... will find peace of mind in the end… just like Dog did.

* * *

**Dean Domino:**

Dean Domino, entertainer, singer... thief... explored the Sierra Madre not long after he was rescued by Solmund. He did not felt the need to steal everything within the Madre like he did when he and Vera first got here. Once he left the theater, the Sierra Madre recognized him as a guest, and many doors opened to him. He had to admit, it had been built to last.

During his search, he came across the final records of Vera and Sinclair, and realized what happened the night the bombs fell. He felt strangely sad for a moment. In an effort of trying to shrug it off, his mind turned instead to where Solmund had came from. Vegas still survived, out there in the Mojave. Its sights, sounds... and casinos, ripe for the taking.

Dean however wasn’t sure what to make of New Vegas. He had wondered whether he would want to steal from another City of Gold once again. It was hard to change the nature of a man, but perhaps he will find his answers when he gets there. So giving the Sierra Madre one last nod and a wink, he set off beyond the Cloud to begin again.

* * *

 

**Christine Royce:**

Christine – revealed to them it was her all along, the one who’d disabled the holograms at the fountain and caused them so much trouble. She knew that if she could somehow make things not go according to Elijah’s plan, she’d be able to force him out of his hideout. She was obsessed with finding him, so much so that she didn’t consider the consequences. Obsession is another form of greed, a lesson that Christine had only learned after she met Solmund.

She thanked the old ranger for keeping Elijah's hand from her throat… and for keeping hers from his. Solmund reminded her of someone else with similar… conviction. She met this man at a place called the Big Empty. She wondered from time to time about the inevitable meeting of those two.

As for the Mojave wasteland, she was not sure whether she was ready to return to the sand of Nevada. Not because she was afraid to face her past but rather she was afraid that the Sierra Madre will continue to lure in travelers and devour them like it did so many others. She had decided to stay at the Casino, to watch over it as its warden.

With that said… she still felt obligated to make one last meeting in the Mojave before she could return to the Sierra Madre.

* * *

 

Elijah: You've heard of the Sierra Madre Casino.

Christine: We all have, the legend, the curses.

Dean: Some foolishness about it lying in the middle of a City of Dead.

Dog: A city of ghosts.

Solmund: A city of Gold, treasures… promises.

God: Beneath a blood-red cloud...

Dean: ...a bright, shining monument, reaching out, luring treasure hunters to their doom.

Solmund: An illusion.

Christine: A promise that you can change your fortunes. Begin again.

Elijah: Finding it, though, that's not the hard part. It's letting go.

Dean: It's letting go.

Christine: It's letting go.

Dog: It's letting go.

God: It's letting go.

Solmund: … It’s… letting… go…


	43. No Place Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out Chapter 29.5 of the Old Man Courier Side Story (also on my profile)

“Hurry up! We don’t have much time!” Sol yelled, running as fast as he could, “Who knows what kind of crazy traps and torture machines the Old man kept at the bunker.”

Sol was charging across the rocky hills near the cliff where Dog dropped them off, rushing faster than a bull to the bunker where he was knocked out cold. Christine and Dean followed him shortly after, both of them wondered how in God’s hell a sixty year old man like Sol was running like that all while suffering from some serious coughing fits. It was absolutely absurd.

Solmund charged his way through the valley and then slide down hill to the little hatch leading to the underground bunker.

“Sol, wait up!” Christine shouted, panting as she ran.

“It’s no use,” Dean said, “this guy’s nuts!”

Sol kicked the hatch down and jumped straight through into the dark bunker below. He rushed past all the heavy metal doors as quickly as he could.

“GUYS! Are you alright?” He shouted through the hall, “ED-E, Boone… Veronica! Are you alri…”

What he didn’t expect however was this scene. It practically removed his jaw from his head.

“Hey, boss. How ya doin’?”

They were having a party… a goddamn – motherfucking party. Raul had Cass and Veronica sit in the corner while he was shuffling cards; playing Caravan with piles upon piles of bottle caps used for betting. There were whiskey bottles everywhere, some spilled over the floor, others went crashing onto the wall. Even a couple of broken beer bottles here and there, they drank and they laughed and they bet.

Veronica was sitting on the side adjusting the radio while choosing the songs; they were loud bombastic music that was exploding across the entire room.

Boone and Arcade were in the corner fixing up their rifles and laser guns using a bunch of springs and cogs found lying around the bunker. They were talking to each other, discussing political matters like usual, it was as if Sol wasn’t even there.

Meanwhile in the other room, Rex was chasing ED-E all around the room… again. He was drooling like mad. ED-E was screaming maniacally, flying all over the place bumping into all sorts of things from piles of books to tall piles of scrap metal, making a massive mess of things.

 “What…” Sol muttered, “what in God’s earth… is the meaning of this?”

“Huh? Oh, we’ve been waiting for you Sol,” Arcade turned around and answered him, “turns out the security system wasn’t really that tough. See when we were freed, it didn’t really take long for us to find some files in the terminals over there about the vending machines and counterfeiting casino chips. It only took us a while to figure out how to get food and supplies from the vending machine in the back.”

“So we figured that we use it to kill the time while we wait for you,” Raul said while dealing the cards, “since you’re _so_ decisive and _so_ level-headed and _so_ rational _all the time_ , we figured that there was nothing to worry about.”

“We knew,” Boone said under his quiet breath, “that someone… as tough and as stubborn as you would’ve survived.”

“Yup,” Cass said still focusing on the cards, “that Old jerk called Elijah made a huge mistake messing with a crazy rootin’-tootin’ ass kickin’ son of a bitch like you… and Royal Flush!”

“You know we’re playing Caravan right?” Raul said.

“Says who?” Cass burped as she took another sip of whiskey.

Sol was still standing there speechless.

“All we’re saying is,” Veronica smiled brightly at him, “that we’re glad you came back safe and sound. Listen Sol… I know that dealing with… Elijah can be somewhat… frustrating. I… I… I didn't even recognize him anymore. All the deeds he's done… it's unforgivable. I'm not even sure if he's that same person who I looked up long ago anymore. What I'm trying to say is that… I'm just glad that you made it out of there alive… even with Elijah there, standing in your way.”

“So come on,” Cass yelled cheerfully, “let’s celebrate… have a drink!”

ED-E made some joyful beeping noises while Rex barked cheerfully over and over again hanging his tongue out like there wasn’t a single worry in the entire whole wide world.

“Yeah, boss, join us in some card games. Cass’s betting all in on this round, and she’s about to lose. Her tears are going to be delicious.”

“Not on my watch!” Cass said, “As long as I’m still sober…”

“Ms. Cassidy, m’lady,” Raul said, “you’ve never been sober, so I wouldn’t count on your chances if I was you.”

Solmund began to grit his teeth, the atmosphere in the room suddenly darkened. The shadows around Sol were expanding across the room with his fists clenching together tightly. He was shaking. Raul took a step back and had his back against the wall while panting in fear. All of them looked at him with anxious eyes as if waiting for the anger, the shouts to come.

… But…

A stream of tears suddenly crawled down his cheeks. He was still shaking and his teeth grinding against each other. His fists were still tightly clenched. Something deep inside his heart – deeper than the excruciating pain and the collapsing lungs – there was something… warm and soothing. No matter how hard he tried, the anger would not surface, the shouts would not form. His heart was beating rapidly, blocking out all of the pain, fury and sorrow – the negativity.

He couldn’t understand these emotions within himself. It’d been an awful long time since… since he met anybody who would actually… trust him. He shut people out, lied to them, put up this act, this façade. He’d sworn to not tell another soul on earth about his story and yet… he couldn’t be happier to be around actual people.

Because he knew that for that moment… he knew that he was glad he could see his friends… one more time.

He just couldn’t help but smile. He shouted gleefully across the room:

“Do you assholes have _ANY_ idea what I’ve been through? I was forced into an impossible heist in a city of dead people beneath a sky of bloody toxic Cloud! I had to fight my way through goddamn Ghosts throwing goddamn spears at me, goddamn immortal ghouls throwing goddamn fire bombs at me, goddamn indestructible holograms throwing their goddamn lasers at me and goddamn radio speakers that were trying to blow my head off!  _I HAD TO EAT A FUCKING COCKROACH TO SURVIVE!_ It was disgusting, it was nasty, it was unhygienic, unhealthy but I did what I had to do to survive. And don’t even get me fucking started on how I managed to survive the goddamn thirst. I went through all that with nothing on my hands but a couple of bullets and a crappy pistol, I went through _HELL_ and back because I was worried about all of you motherfucking ingrates, every last one of you! I did all that for you and what did I find when I came back? Y’all throwing a party, playing cards and drinking booze like it’s MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!”

“Wow, calm down boss,” Raul said with trembling voices, “just take it easy now.”

“Oh you want me to take it easy? Is that it? You want me to calm the fuck down? Well _too bad! Because I’m about to rip your spine in half any second now!”_

“I mean,” Raul said chuckling shyly, “I don’t think that it was _that_ difficult or challenging. I mean, anybody could’ve done it.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” Boone grinned, “I could’ve taken care of it all by myself… faster, too.”

“Agreed,” Arcade smiled ‘ _innocently’, “_ by my calculations, if this so called heist was performed by someone who was _actually_ competent and skillful, the probability of success and the efficiency rate would have increased tremendously, by approximately 27 percent.”

“Yeah, I mean come on,” Cass laughed, “hijacking a casino? Anybody could’ve done that! And you didn’t even bother to bring back souvenirs, how sad.”

“I agree, boss, you should’ve sat this one out. Play some cards, drink a little, sit around and be a useless old man. Since that’s what you do best anyway, so might as well, he-he…”

“GODDAMN IT RAUL!” Sol shouted from the top of his lungs, still couldn’t help but smile, “I’m going to kick your stupid little ass, let’s see if your Dios is going to save you this time!”

“Ooh, I sure am _quaking_ in my boots right now!”

“ARRRGHHH!”

Sol chased Raul around the room trying to catch the little bastard. Just like how Rex chased ED-E. Their joyous screams and laughter resonated inside the metal bunker, echoing sounds of the rapid footsteps. They all laughed and smiled. Even Boone couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

They all laughed, chortled and chuckled, wrapping their arms around each other under the overwhelming scent of sweat and booze as Sol chased frantically around the room. The sound of laughter… this was the sound that none of them wanted to end.

… But…

The fun was cut short when then realized Sol wasn’t laughing nor smiling anymore. Instead, he gripped at his chest and began to howl in pain.

“SOL!” Veronica yelled as she rushed by his side. They all quickly came towards him as he collapsed on the floor.

“Sol! What’s wrong?” Arcade asked, “Are you hurt? I’ll go get my Doctor’s bag. I may have some Stimpaks left, maybe some Hydras, too…”

“NO!” Sol quickly shouted, “My gear… the security system from the damn casino took my gear, is it still here?”

“Um…” Arcade stuttered, “yeah, I think so, I saw a bright light came in here a while back, it might've been a… hologram or something, I don’t know. I think it put something into a footlocker on the other room but I’m not entirely sure.”

“ _Go get it for me! In my… duster… there’s c… cigarette… p_ _…_ _pack…”_ Sol said, trying his best to work through the pain.

Arcade nodded and rushed to the other room and started digging through the enormous pile of scrap metal and old burnt books that’d been stacking up way before they even got here. Boone also followed in shortly after to help searching.

Sol was coughing even more violently now, even more so than back at the Madre. Blood dripped down from his lips. He reached his hand out to Veronica to which she held tightly. He looked her in the eyes; young and innocent as always. It made him smile.

“Veronica…”

“Yeah?” She said, almost tearing up.

“You… you are the most reckless airheaded little girl I’ve ever met… you know that? You always go off wandering on your own, exploring things. And to be honest you have been the biggest nuisance of my life ever since I met Raul. Ha… ha… which is why… I’m… glad that I’ve met you… and I’m happy… that you are my friend… heh… look at me, I can’t even find the right words. Hah… to be perfectly honest… I’d probably be dead by now… if it weren’t for one thing – I made a promise… to someone… that… I’d live… even if it’s just for a little while longer…”

Veronica was confused at first but when she looked up the metal doorway her expression changed. She instantly recognized her.

“H… hi… Ronnie…” Christine whispered shyly by the doorway.

Sol started to snicker quietly under his breath:

“Go get her… kiddo,” he was about to close his eyes but suddenly opened them again, “I almost forgot… here, I have a present for you. Hold on, let me get it out… ah, here we go.”

He gave Veronica a small leather package of some sort. She quickly unfolded it and was instantly lost for words – speechless. She held in her hands a beautiful vibrant dark dress with straps of red smooth silk skillfully woven together. It could only be described as a garment made from the most beautiful diamonds harvested from the dark knight sky. It was Vera’s dress.

“I felt like the last dress I gave you was sorta half-assed… so go on, you kids have fun now… just don’t get… too kinky… ha-ha.”


	44. 'Tis but a Scratch

… _Why… tell me why…_

_… I trusted you… why can’t things be the way they were before?_

_… It’s not your fault… just do it…_

_… Don’t worry about me… I’ll see you on the other side…_

_“NOOO!!”_

Sol sprang up from his bed breathing like a raging sandstorm. His eyes widen like a mad hungry Deathclaw. He was shaking as if his body was stored inside a freezer for a whole afternoon. He quickly glanced around and noticed that he was lying in one of the cots in the bunker. It was dark and sort of hard to see but he recognized the figure by his bed.

Arcade was nearly half asleep until he heard Sol screamed from his cold sweat. It was sort of nostalgic for Sol, it reminded him of Doc Mitchell back at Goodsprings.

“Oh thank god… you’re awake,” Arcade said much to his relief, “I guess what they say is true, you’re really too stubborn to die.”

“Wh… what happened?”

“Well, after you collapsed on the floor we carried you to bed to perform some surgery. I don’t want to brag but I’m quite proud in my… craftsmanship, if that makes any sense.”

Sol shook his head, trying to get his bearing. He could still feel an overwhelming burden in his chest, but it wasn’t as bad as when he was back at the Madre. Didn’t hurt as much either.

“You…” Sol stuttered, “… fixed me up?”

“I _am_ the only doctor around here besides you,” Arcade smiled, “so I’m going to have to say… yes.”

“Ugh… my chest…”

“Easy now, you were in a pretty bad shape, your condition was even worse than those guns and machines you like fixing so much. Quite frankly it’s a miracle that you survived.”

“Arcade… I…”

“Don’t talk,” said Arcade, suddenly a bit more serious, “just listen… and answer… because I'd like you to tell me about this thing here.”

He pulled out of his pocket a syringe of Kapz and threw it onto the bed. Sol looked at the syringe and then back at Arcade. The doc’s eyes were suddenly a lot grimmer.

Sol could do nothing but sigh:

“So… you’ve found out…”

“I’ve seen Freeside junkies overdosing themselves with chems before, loads of them actually. On a regular basis, too,” Arcade said, “but this… I swear to god, even a small dose of this could instantly kill 20 Lakelurks. Honestly, I’ve never even seen anything as potent as this chemical compound.”

“Yeah… it did… take me a while before the recipe was perfected.”

“Did you know?” Arcade asked, “About the… _side effects?_ ”

“Of course I knew, why do you think I synthesized those cigarettes?”

“And there’s the matter with the cigarettes, too. I had to go ahead and make some modifications to make the cigarettes even more potent, you can thank your cancer cells for that.”

Sol glanced up at Arcade completely in shock.

“Yup,” Arcade replied, “I know about your cancer as well. I _am_ a doctor after all.”

Sol suddenly leaned forward, almost as if he was begging:

“Please, Arcade, don’t tell the others about this.”

“And why is that?”

“Because… um…” he paused, “well… it’s… it’s because I don’t want them to make a big fuss out of this. They’ve… I’ve made them worry enough.”

“Oh so _now_ you’re concerned about us? Hallelujah!” Arcade said mockingly, “Has it ever occurred to you that all those times you caused us so much trouble, making us follow you around into some Cazadors’ nest, nearly killing all of us, all those times only happened because you couldn’t be bothered to tell us about any of your plans, did you think about that, huh, huh? We would’ve never even been in this mess if you would've just told us a little bit about what you were thinking. There are people who’d follow you because they genuinely care for you. But they’re not going to follow you unless you give them what they deserve – trust. You can’t just ignore them and pretend that they don’t exist. So pardon me for not keeping my mouth shut and just go along with one of your brilliant little plans that we still know nothing about. What’s next on the list? You’re going to tell us that we need to jump off a cliff because what? It’s necessary? All part of the master plan?”

“Arcade… I,” Sol stuttered, sitting there in bed for a good long minute trying to find the right words to describe his inner turmoil, “… I… Arcade… okay… here goes… I’m… I’m sorry for getting you guys into this mess. I know that you want me to tell you my plans and…”

“Oh no, not just your plans,” Arcade cut him off, “what I want… is to know who you are. I want to know who I’m working with. I think we can all agree that it’s quite unsettling to follow somebody who we know nothing about. And let’s face it, right now… you have as much chance of turning out to be a crazy Legion serial killer as a random caravan trader on the street.”

“Alright, alright, I think… I… I get the picture,” He stammered again, “… I just… I… I just have… to take care of some things first. There’s… there’s just a couple of things… in my past that’s a little bit… unclear. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Hmm…”

Sol expected Arcade to criticize him further and continue to dig further. But no… the doctor seemed… to have calmed down, almost to the point of sympathizing with him. His face was as if he… understood what it felt like. If Sol didn’t know any better, he’d say that Arcade had also got things to hide himself.

“Fine!” Arcade said, “… then don’t talk about it. But from now on when you come up with a plan, or even just a passing thought – you _tell_ us. No more secrets, nothing but the truth, got it?”

“I…”

“Ah ah, I’m not done yet, let me finish,” he interrupted, “you don’t want to talk? Fine, we can start small. So from now on – no more Kapz!”

“What? But…”

“No buts!” He affirmed, “You hear me? I don’t want to see you near any more syringes unless I’m the one administrating it to you. As the matter of fact, I’ve already taken away all of the syringes from your gears, to make sure you don’t sneak one in while I’m not looking. I’ve also made you a list of prescription drugs that you need to take daily. No other way around it, you got that? Your condition is already at its final stages, but since you’re one of the toughest sons of a gun I’ve ever met you should be alright… for now. Preserving your health is more important than treatment… well, at least for now. This Kapz thing is one of the most potent chems I’ve seen, it’s a lot harder to synthesize or even find a counter measure for it.”

Arcade was a lifesaver, no doubt about it. But Sol couldn’t comprehend it at first. Arcade was practically scolding at him. And yet he had to admit, that if any of this had came from anybody else, Sol would’ve gone ballistic over the guy that was talking down onto him. But for some reason… Arcade had this certain… charm that he just couldn’t bring himself to get mad at. It was weird. Either way, Sol was glad that Arcade had stuck around.

There was a long pause. Sol took that time to look around the room. The guys were sleeping on the other side, either on the ground or on the cots. There was Boone and Raul on the cots, they were pretty heavy sleepers. Then there was Dean on the ground… drunk. Sol really wanted to know how these people kept getting so drunk and so quickly. ED-E and Rex were also resting in the corner.

But some things were missing.

“W… where’s Veronica? And… and Christine…”

“Eh…” Arcade smiled awkwardly, “Theyyy… they’re… ahem… in the other room.”

Sol’s face slowly transformed into a wide grin across his face, almost like a pervert to an extent. But Arcade quickly dismissed him:

“Not like that you old perv! Geez, go read a magazine or something if you’re that desperate. They didn’t do anything. They just… talked.”

“And?”

Arcade looked at Sol, still seeing ‘ _that’_ look in his eyes, the doc chuckled:

“Goddamn it Sol… well… they just… ya know, talked about stuff. I’d imagine they would have a lot of catching up after being separated for that long. They were in there for a couple of hours, everything seemed to be sorted out, not much fuss.”

“Alright, that’s good.”

“Although…” Arcade paused, pondering a bit, “I struggle to find a way to… um… break this to you. But… uh… Christine… she… um she left.”

“Huh? What? Did she say where she was going?”

“Well… um… not sure if you’re going to like this… but she said that she went back to that Casino… the one called the Sierra Madre.”

“What?” Sol’s eyes widened like a pair of light bulbs, “Why the fuck would she do that? We just got out of that godforsaken shit hole and now she wants to jump right back into it?”

“She did tell me to leave you a message,” Arcade explained, “she said that she’s very thankful for everything you’ve done for her. Helping her along the way, bringing her back to Veronica and most of all she’s thankful that you kept her safe from… the Old man. While also keeping her from… um… outright killing Veronica’s old mentor. And for that she thanked you from the bottom of her heart.”

Well, it sort of made sense (only a teeny tiny little bit) if you think about it, at the very least Sol thought so. The Sierra Madre was a dangerous place. Countless others would no doubt continue to wander into the toxic red Cloud if there was nobody there at the Casino to drive them away, making them turn the other direction.

“She also said that although she knows that you have the location of the Sierra Madre marked on your Pip-Boy… she would really appreciate it if you… erm… just keep it to yourself.”

“I… I see.”

Sol took another look around the room. Something was still bugging him. There was still something missing, it didn’t feel right.

“Um… where is Cass?”

This time… Arcade looked away right the moment he asked the question. It was like as if he was embarrassed or something. Or maybe it was something so horrible that he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.

“She um… err… ahem… she,” he stammered, “… she… also left.”

Sol started to blink rapidly, as if he didn’t hear him right. Or maybe it was just because his brain outright refused to believe it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “I think I misheard you. Because for a minute there I could’ve sworn that you said that Cass… ran off as well.”

“That’s… ahem… because I did… she… really did run off.”

“But _WHY_?” Sol cried loudly, “Why… how the hell did all this happen? I was just out for a couple of hours and I wake up to find this?”

“Eh…” Arcade shrugged.

“Damn it!” The old ranger sighed, “Did she say why she left?”

“One of the greatest mysteries in the world I’m afraid.”

 

 

 

 

**_3 days later…_ **

Solmund was back on his feet again to everyone’s surprise. They knew that Sol was one of the toughest sons of bitches they’d ever met but this was just getting out of hand. Although Arcade did warn him not to exercise his body and muscles too much because his body could break down. He obliged, reluctantly of course since he was so goddamn stubborn. He was always trying to sneak out of bed… only to be caught by Boone and thrown back to the cot as commanded by Arcade.

The crew was still quite shocked when they found out about the departure of both Christine and Cass. Although they didn’t know those two that well, they did have fun together, at least with Cass. Something just felt… out of place, amiss now that the drunkard was gone. It felt… quiet and quite frankly a little bit less exciting, it was to a certain extent – boring.

They decided they would stick around the bunker for a while longer. Just to rest and get back their energy. Although, Veronica and Sol had been complaining a lot about the food. After all, they’d been eating nothing but canned food from the Sierra Madre vending machine for the last few weeks. Oh how Veronica truly regretted having taking the luxuries of Vegas for granted.

“So is he with us now?” The girl asked.

“Who Dean?” Sol asked, “Well, yeah I suppose. I mean, he doesn’t seem to mind us that much. And Raul’s been getting along with him fairly well. It should be alright… I think.”

“Yeah until he actually gets to know that sarcastic bastard,” Veronica said, “trust me when I say that Dean looks like the kind of guy that would hold in his anger and one day release them by murdering us with a Tommy gun while we play poker. I speak from experience here, this isn’t going to end well, I can tell you that.”

“Ha ha, I suppose,” Sol laughed.

“Yeah…”

“Sooo… what did you two talk about while I was out?” Sol asked as he took a bite out of a can of Pork n’ Beans, “Arcade said you two were in there for an awful long time. Eh Ronnie?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The young girl blushed as she heard him call her by that name, to which she quickly cried:

“Oh shut up you,” Veronica giggled gleefully following with a punch to the side of his arm. But she suddenly remembered that her punches would usually destroy whatever was in the way and also that Sol was still recovering.

“OW, crap, crap! My arm!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ll live… for now,” he sighed while laughing, “so? Care to tell me?”

“Well… we talked. And um… she told me everything. You, the Madre… Elijah. When I first saw him appeared in this bunker as a hologram, I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do. I mean… I thought he was dead… I really did. But when he showed up I never felt like it was good news to me… he was like a ghost… or something, heh I know I’m not making any sense but it’s true.”

“Did you guys also um… ahem,” Sol said awkwardly, “I mean… Christine told me about what Elijah… did to you.”

“Yeah… we talked about that, too,” she said, “heh, it’s kind of funny… I never truly hated her after what happened… after what she said to me that day. Just… more like heartbroken, really. I knew that she wasn’t acting like herself and that she must’ve had someone else’s influences over her. I just never thought that it was Elijah. What hurt the most weren’t those things she said to me. No… what really hurt me the most was the fact that I wasn’t losing just Christine that day but I was also losing Elijah, too… and now… he’s dead.”

“Veronica… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… it’s just that…”

“No, please Sol, don’t… don’t start this again. Stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault. Elijah was already dead the day he lost his sanity.”

“Oh… alright,” Sol said with a slight tone of sadness, “what about Christine? Aren’t you concerned that… she left?”

“Eh, not that much. She told me why she left. I mean… I get it. The Sierra Madre… it’s a dangerous place. More people are just going to die if there’s nobody there to guard it. I was happy though… with her… for the short amount of time we were together…” She smiled warmly, wiping a little drop of tear out of her eye, “heh, there I go being all sentimental again… although I do wish… that we had just a little more time…”

Sol saw her shaking, so he went in for hug, pulled her in close. She embraced him warmly. Yeah, perhaps… they’ll see each other again… one day…

Suddenly they heard a loud thud that echoed from above. Something was happening outside.

“What was that?” Solmund cried.

“I don’t know,” she said, “Boone said he was going out of the bunker to get some fresh air. I don’t see the guys anywhere, they must’ve followed him.”

She hopped off the bed and ran off towards the door.

“Hey, hey, wait up,” Sol forced himself out of bed, deliberately disobeying Arcade’s order, grabbing his coat and his gun and stormed out. His legs still hurt like crazy.

“Veronica, wait up!”

He ran up the stairs and climbed out of the bunker. But he was not prepared for what was on the surface. There they stood, all of them. Even ED-E and Rex under the vigorous sandstorm eating at their skin and coats. Standing under the harsh beating sunlight of the Mojave. They stood looking up to the hill above the bunker. And all around them were massive crimson red shadows of fear and terror.

“ _THE CAESAR HAS MARKED FOR YOUR NAME – AND THE LEGION OBEYS!”_


	45. Life Flashing Before his Eyes

**_14 th January, 2248_ **

_Hello…_

_~~Nice to meet you, how are you doin~~ _

_My name is… well, that’s not really important right now. But you can call me Ace, I don’t really know where the name came from. I guess it may have something to do with my old buddies calling me that whenever we played cards. They called me the “Luckiest son of a Bitch in the Wasteland.” That’s probably why I stopped playing cards… or just betting in general._

_Anyway, I’ll just leave this letter in this mailbox here, hoping that somebody would care enough to pick it up and actually read it (instead of just using it for campfire). Do watch out for Deathclaws, though. I ran into a couple of them while walking around this place. Annoying little critters they are, there’s probably a nest around here somewhere. I might go and investigate it one of these days._

_~~I don’t really know the purpose of thi~~ _

_Honest to god I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter. Just a way for me to relieve some stress perhaps. I’ve been going through a rough time lately. I lost somebody very dear to me just a few months ago. I could really use somebody to talk to._

_~~Who knows, maybe he will find this or it could get chewed up by a mole rat~~ _

_Your new friend,_

_Ace_

**_12 th June 2231 – Baja_ **

“One day, all of this will be yours,” Mr. Solomon said, “you have a responsibility to our family, do not forget that.”

That was what he’d always told Sol. But the little boy never really understood it. Not the part about being successor and all that, he was smart enough to understand the business. He just never understood why it had to be him.

“We have many vigorous competitors,” Mr. Solomon told his son, “especially that Chad Gunderson.”

“I don’t see him as that big of a threat, father,” said Sol.

“Tsk, tsk, never underestimate your enemies my boy. The walls have ears, they are watching us. They want what we have. But I’m not giving it up that easy.”

What enemies? Sol wondered. He never understood his father. The day didn’t go by when he didn’t wonder why he was still putting up with all of this. He wanted to break free, that was all he’d ever wanted. But then every day, he would remember the reason why.

“May I be excused father?”

“Fine, but finish up your assignment, alright? I want a 10 page essay on chapter 25 to chapter 30 in that D.C Journal of Internal Medicine on my desk first thing in the morning, you got that?”

“Y… yes father,” he struggled to push out those words.

Mr. Solomon sighed:

“You know I’m doing this for your own good right? Your teacher, what’s her name… um… er… Trudy, or Tracy… oh, yeah Judy, I remember now. She’s been complaining about how you’ve been slacking off lately. You’ve got to get it together, alright? ”

The boy didn’t answer him and left the room. He gritted his teeth in anger just like every other day. His father didn’t actually care about the boy’s education, to be honest. The man was only looking out for himself. The boy wondered how he got in this mess in the first place.

 

 

 

 

**_6 th December 2228 – Baja_ **

“Hey there little one. Hey, don’t be afraid. Hi… my name’s Judy,” the lady in the lab coat extended her hands to the boy.

But the little boy wouldn’t budge. He was scared shitless. Hiding behind the walls shivering. He was just a tiny little kid, he looked absolutely pathetic, the boy was practically wearing rags for clothes.

“Hey, Judy, I’m here,” another doctor came running around the corner, gasping for air, “what’s the problem?”

“Yeah I found the kid,” she said, “but I don’t know what to do, he wouldn’t come out.”

The doctor climbed up the rubble and glanced over to the corner where the little boy was hiding. He carefully climbed back down to where Judy stood. He figured that the boy was scared that they were going to punish him or something.

“That’s crazy, we would never do something like that,” she cried.

“Yeah, try telling him that,” said the doctor, “but seriously, what on earth happened here? Why was he running away?”

“I… I really don’t know, Randy,” she told him, “I was teaching in my class with the kids then I saw him out the window. I went over and asked him what’s the matter and he just ran off.”

“That doesn’t sound very welcoming,” said Randy, “are you sure that’s what you said? You didn’t say anything that would scare him off now did you?”

“Of course not, you dunce. What do you take me for?” She cried, “… well… now that I think about it, I sort of asked him if he wanted to join the class.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah, I swear to god, I didn’t say anything else,” Judy said, “maybe he’s just a little bit shy.”

“Maybe.”

The two of them started to climb the pile of rubble again. They could see that the kid was still shivering, in fear perhaps.

Randy began to slowly climb down and was careful not to make any sudden movement that would scare the boy. He approached slowly with his right hand reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out an opened box of potato crisps. There were still some left inside, he then offered it to the boy.

“Here, you want some?” He asked, “You look hungry… err… sorry, it’s already opened, but it’s still good.”

The boy was reluctant at first but eventually managed to work up the courage to approach the doctor. The boy swiftly snatched a handful out of the box and shoved it straight into his mouth, gobbling it all up.

“Yikes, what the hell happened to you…” said Randy. Judy soon followed him down.

“So… um… do you want to tell us your name?” Judy smiled at the boy.

He was still very reluctant and shy, withdrawing himself like a turtle. He spoke with a soft and feeble voice:

“S… Solmund… Solomon…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Randy said in shock, “Solomon… as in James Solomon?”

“Isn’t he the richest Brahmin baron in the area?” Judy asked.

“Yeah… you don’t look very… um,” Randy struggled to find the right words, “Um… you’re not lying to us are you?”

But the little boy immediately shrank back in fear, intimidated by Randy’s sudden interrogation with the man casting his big shadows over him.

“Come on, let’s be logical about this,” Judy said, “think! Is there any possible motivation for him to lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to con Mr. Solomon out of his fortune?”

“Maybe… hmm…” Judy thought, looking at the little boy, “we should go and verify this with Mr. Solomon.”

 

 

 

 

“Oh yes, he is my son alright,” Mr. Solomon answered nonchalantly. Which gave both Randy and Judy quite a shock.

“B… but… but sir,” Judy said, “your son… he’s been wandering around the area unsupervised and unprotected, it’s pretty dangerous out there. Aren’t you at least a bit concern about that?”

“Why should I be?” He said, shocking the two doctors even more, “The boy likes to wander about, so I let him. What’s wrong with that?”

“… But…”

“Now, now, let’s not talk of this further,” the rancher said, “look, I appreciate that you took the time to return my son to me, but I am a very busy man. So if don’t mind, I’ll be off to take care of some important business now.”

The two doctors looked at each other and then looked down at the miserable little child that was still clinging onto Judy’s coat. They didn’t know what to do. They were worried about the little boy. They could feel strange vibes coming from this household, they didn’t feel comfortable leaving the boy with his father. It was an extremely big ranch. That was a fact, since Mr. Solomon was so rich. But still…

“Um… sir…” Judy said shyly.

“Yes? Is there more for us to discuss?”

“Well… actually… sir… I was just thinking of a proposition that might interest you,” said Judy.

Mr. Solomon did not answer but listened to her regardless. She said:

“Well… the thing is that we found your son um… your son Solmund was peeking into one of our libraries this morning. I was teaching some classes to the children and noticed that your son’s been watching us for a while. That’s how we met him in the first place. So I would like to ask – with your permission of course – to let young Solmund enroll in one of our Follower’s school. I can assure you that we have the best education system in the entire region. Our archives and libraries are very vast, we have much to teach to the youngsters of the wasteland. And your son seemed to be a very bright young man, I’m sure that he would perform exceptionally well under our guidance.”

Mr. Solomon’s facial expression did not change after hearing this. Instead, he turned around to face the two of them.

“Look,” he said, “I appreciate the offer and all but I’m not entirely comfortable working along with… erm… pardon me for saying this… anarchists.”

“Excuse me?” Randy cried.

“The point is, I’m a busy man, and I don’t have the time or resources to invest in such... trivial things.”

“But sir, I really must advise you to reconsider,” Randy pleaded, “we Followers of the Apocalypse strongly believe in education, health care and aid to this harsh wasteland.”

“Yes,” Judy agreed, “your child is a very bright young man, and I believe that in a suitable learning environment he will be able grow into an incredibly well educated individual. We have a lot of great facilities, great for studying. We also have a lot caravan trips on countless expedition where we travel all around to study and aid the people around us. We converse with a lot of different folks like the Crimson Caravan, other NCR branches, various tribes, even gold merchants and…”

“Wait, wait the minute,” Mr. Solomon cut her off, “Gold merchants? Like… the Vincent Finch Caravan?”

“Um, yeah, I believe so,” Judy said, with a bit of confusion, “we have good relations with the caravan, we’re trading partners. A lot of caravan folks have at least one or two doctors accompanying them on their expeditions.”

Mr. Solomon thought about it for a moment, squinting his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. He then looked over to the scared little boy still hiding behind the two doctors with a look that seemed like he was planning something… something that felt almost… sadistic. Judy wasn’t entirely sure, but she did feel the strange aura around the man.

“It is decided then,” Mr. Solomon said with confidence, “my son will be enrolling into one of your Follower of Apocalypse’s schools, won’t you boy? I think he’ll do great.”

The two doctors didn’t know what to make of this. Just moments ago Mr. Solomon was opposing the idea of enrolling his son and yet after hearing out Judy’s explanation he turned completely around to the opposite direction. What madness had allowed this man to come to life in the first place?


	46. Put up Your Dukes!

**_34 years ago - 2247, Dry Wells…_ **

“A tournament?” Said Solmund, “Huh, interesting.”

“Yup,” Oscar said, “do you remember the gold merchant I once told you about? The one they call Edward Sallow.”

“Oh, yeah, him. I remember him.”

“He’s one of the largest gold traders around these parts. Kinda like the Crimson Caravan but in Arizona. Rumor has it that he’s been going around helping all the tribes around the area, giving them jobs as caravan guards and trading with them, that sort of stuff. I still have no idea why a Follower like him would go around helping tribes, though. Anyway, apparently they’re going on an expedition way up North. Dangerous lands, lots of monsters. So he’s hosting a tournament in order to select the most powerful warriors to go on his expedition.”

“So you’re participating?”

“Yeah, he sent out invitations to the neighboring tribes, and the winner will accompany them on the expedition _and_ will also be offered a partnership in the gold trade. Each tribe will have a representative to participate. I guess the chief nominated me.”

Oscar was stretching his arms to the side, getting warmed up. The Twisted Hairs were a strong tribe, despite using simple weaponry consisting of only spears and bludgeons with little to no firearms whatsoever. Odysseus in particular was the strongest warrior amongst them all. He had such a monstrous amount of physical strength, so much to the point that nobody had yet been able to best him in hand to hand combat. Not even the most experienced hunters of the tribe.

He had an unorthodox way of fighting, too. Utilizing a golden flag pole as a staff instead of the traditional spears, bludgeons, knives. Sol watched from the side as Oscar sparred with the hunters of the village. He was strong, probably the strongest man Sol had ever met in his life. The way he moved, the way he swung the pole… it all just screamed power, power and brute strength of a beast. He was aggressive, each swing was as powerful as a charging bull. Unrelenting and merciless but only when he was fighting. It was hard to believe that this was the same gentle giant the little kids called Odysseus, the one who told them stories every night before bed. He was probably strong enough to fight off a whole horde of deathclaws by himself, even without his weapon. Sol wondered from time to time why Oscar wasn't able to take care of the deathclaw that Sol killed on the day they first met.

“I don’t know, Sol,” Oscar said as he sparred, “I’m not sure if I’m right for the job.”

“Why do you say that?” Said Sol in a curious tone.

“Well… I’m just not sure if I’m strong enough. I mean, the reward for winning is nice and all but… I just don’t want to let my tribe, my family down, ya know what I’m sayin’?”

“I seriously have no idea what on earth you’re talking about. You’re probably the strongest man I’ve ever met. A tournament like this should be a cake walk for you. I mean… are you saying that you don’t really believe in the stories of the legendary Odysseus, the strongest warrior of the Twisted Hairs?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe the stories,” Oscar said timidly, “all I’m saying is that I’m not exactly a… how should I put this… a fighting kind of person, ya know? I mean I can go hunting for wild animals alright. But this is not like that, I’m not going to be hunting a gecko or a Nightstalker. I’ll be fighting actual people, actual trained warriors.”

Sol suddenly stood up from where he sat with a serious expression on his face. There wasn’t a single trace of youthful bliss that could be found on his face; grim and stern.

“You’re right,” Sol said, “and we can’t have that now, can we?”

Solmund then proceeded to walk up to Oscar which confused the hunters who were training with him. It wasn’t long before the two of them stood face to face. Oscar was a tall man, but Sol stood at the same height.  It was just Oscar's well-built physique that made him look slightly bigger compared to Sol’s scrawny body.

Sol smiled brightly:

“Come, fight me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Oscar exclaimed.

“Come on,” Sol insisted, “you want to win the tournament don’t you? How are you going to do that if you don’t test your limits? You’re already stronger than all the hunters in your tribe combined. What’s the point of sparring with them anymore?”

Oscar was still unsure at first, but when he looked into Sol’s gaze he could clearly see an unrivaled sense of determination. Which was something that excited him, gave thrill to him. How could he say no?

The two of them got into position, there was roughly 40 feet between them at this point. The hunters decided to take a break, but for some reason the tension level actually rose as they began watching the two of them.

There was something… peculiar about the two of them. On Oscar’s side, the hunters could hear a loud thud, beating from his heart. It wasn’t fear, but excitement, the spirit of combat. It sounded… like hooves of a raging bull ready to charge. They could feel Oscar’s immeasurable strength pouring out from his calm raging muscles.

However, when they looked over to Sol it was even more peculiar. His heart… was silent, even when they strained their ears trying to listen – they could not read his movements, his intentions. There wasn’t a single beat coming from him. As if like a predator… silent and patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Come at me with everything you’ve got alright?” Sol grinned excitedly, “Don’t hold back. I want to see what you’re made of.”

The hunters were probably thinking at that moment that this young ranger was crazy, because nobody had ever managed to defeat Oscar in close quarter combat. It was just simply impossible.

But when they looked at Oscar, they saw a smile stretching across his face. A kind of smile that they had never seen before in their lives. It wasn’t gentle nor was it innocent… it was the thirst for battle.

“Hey hold up,” Oscar said, still grinning, “are you seriously thinking of fighting me with your bare hands? I have a weapon you know? It may not look like much but I have been able to survive off the land using nothing but this golden staff.”

“Go right ahead. You could be using a sniper rifle for all I care.”

Oscar nodded and didn’t waste a single moment. He charged straight towards Sol leaving behind a tornado of dust and sand. It was so fast that the hunters had a hard time keeping up. By the time they turned to the other side they had already heard a loud thud behind a storm of blinding dust.

It took a few seconds before the dust finally cleared. And the hunters had their jaw dropped straight to the ground with their eyes popping out of their skulls at the sight of the scene. Solmund was standing on top of Oscar, smiling while Oscar was lying on his back.

“Not bad,” Sol commented.

Oscar grunted painfully as he got back on his feet. But instead of growling angrily like an animal… a grin casually stretched across his cheeks.

“You know,” Oscar said, “I don’t think this is entirely fair.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s kinda unfair for someone like you to be using… chem enhancements.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sol said, still smiling.

“Don’t play dumb,” Oscar chuckled, “do you honestly think that I couldn’t see you using that little syringe of yours all this time? The one you hide beneath your sleeve.”

Sol laughed cheerfully:

“Alright, you got me. How very observant of you… but I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not using the serum this time. Honest,” he loosened his sleeves to show him that there was nothing inside, “so come on, come at me with everything you’ve got.”

Oscar wiped the sand off his mouth and lunged at Sol again. He swung the golden staff at him to which Sol responded by expertly dodging to the left. Sol then grabbed hold of Oscar’s right hand and with his right leg he swiftly swept Oscar’s leg and threw him on the ground – hard.

Oscar’s eyes lit up a fiery rage. He immediately did a kip-up and recovered from the ground. He swung Old Glory furiously at Sol from the sides, aiming at his legs then his head, but Sol was quick like a Cazador and countered by blocking them all skillfully using only his bare hands and his feet.

This made Oscar and the hunters extremely confused and frustrated, all of them knew very well of Oscar’s monstrous strength. With his power and the weapon Old Glory he could easily smash boulders many times bigger than him. And yet this cowboy ranger he was fighting was deflecting all of his strikes as if they were nothing but bug bites.

“Heh,” Sol smiled, with wicked intentions, “my turn!”

He quickly dodged another strike from Oscar then pulled him in close, grabbed him by the back of the neck and forcefully pulled his skull down onto his knee. He could hear a loud thud at contact. It made Oscar wobbly; almost made him lose his balance.

He tried another big swing at the ranger but all his efforts seemed in vain as Sol once again evaded the maneuver. The ranger quickly got close to Oscar’s torso and proceeded to grab him by his arm and shoulder, following up by placing his right foot between Oscar’s legs and yanked the big man off the ground throwing him over his hips, sending Oscar crashing straight onto the rocky hard ground.

But Oscar had not yet lost his determination. He swiftly stood up once more, raising his staff high and brought it down hard like a sledgehammer. And yet…

By some godly miracle Sol proceeded to block the hit by using his fist. He punched the staff!

Oscar shook his head in shock. He tried pushing his staff down Sol’s fist but somehow the ranger just kept pushing back up. What kind of monster is he? Oscar wondered. His physique looked unimpressive, he was lean and yet…

Oscar tried to retaliate by brushing Sol’s fist to the side and went in for a frontal kick to his abdomen. But Sol quickly caught his foot and casually swept Oscar’s other leg, throwing him on the ground once more.

Once Oscar was on the ground he felt completely helpless. His vision blurred, everything suddenly got dark as he was met with a dominant shadow over his body. And the last sight he caught before the battle ended was a powerful fist stopping just short of an inch above his face.

Oscar panted heavily as he laid there on the ground beneath the ranger’s shadow. Tasting for the first time the feeling of defeat. The hunters were watching, they could not believe it. They held their breath with their mouths wide open. But the person who was in shock the most was Oscar who was still lying on the ground, breathing towards the sky.

“You’re strong,” Sol said while adjusting his cowboy hat, “probably the strongest man I’ve ever faced. You have strength to spare. To be honest, if we were to compare physical strength alone then you would have probably beaten me tenfold.”

Oscar was finally able to collect himself. He sat up, still recovering from his defeat.

“But,” Sol commented, “there are still many aspects that are… lacking in you. Your skills for example are very primitive and somewhat clumsy. Understandable since you’re a hunter, not a fighter. You’ve never faced an opponent with true skills before. However, even if you did train your skills to the maximum point, I still would have beaten you. You wanna know why? Because you lack _conviction._ ”

Sol reached in for his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, he lit it up with a match stick he hid under his sleeve. Taking one deep breath and exhaled towards the bright blue sky.

“We’ll start the training first thing in the morning tomorrow. I think it’s about time I show you some tricks I’ve learned as a Desert Ranger.”


	47. Beware Caesar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. Been busy.

“Get your filthy paws off of me you damn barbaric Neanderthals!” Arcade yelled at the top of his lungs as he was dragged away.

They finally made it here, none of them could believe it. The one place that none of them wanted to go to. The one place they thought they would stay as far away as possible. And yet here they were.

“ _Get a move on!”_ One of the Decanii shouted, “Caesar awaits!”

They dragged them all up the hill in ropes and shackles. They had already been stripped of all weapons and potentially dangerous items in their possession. None of them were happy, least of all was Boone. He was absolutely furious actually. You could tell by the look on his face that he would rather jump off a cliff into a nest of Centaurs and have his face melted off than allow himself to be captured by the Legion. In fact, he’d already tried jumping off on several occasions during the trip to the Fort.

Ah yes, Fortification Hill – treated like a legend these days, a myth. But not in the good way. But still, one could behold onto the sight of this fortress and would still be in absolute awe. A tall structure that was built on the hard stones and boulders of a mountain, with tall and mighty fences that rose out of the ground and straight into the heavens. It told travelers stories, stories of hardship, of sweat and blood but most importantly it told a story of an empire. This was no ordinary power. Not like the Khans, not even like the NCR. This was the strength that had conquered these mighty mountain ranges – conquering the land itself.

You could hear them shouting over the mountains, the Legionaries in their camps. You couldn’t exactly see them but when you pause for a second to feel the dirt beneath your feet – the stomping of the hooves, the fights and sparring, the clash of the cold steel of the blades, the hammers, and their furious shouts for honor. Then there was the cold breath of the sweat and blood from all the slashes. Blood of the soldiers? Or blood of the slaves? Sol couldn’t tell from the smell. Regardless, he heard their mighty hooves shouting over this mighty mountain, the hooves of the bull.

The crew was led by ten strong Legionaries who in turned were led by a centurion officer. They were dragged upwards to this rocky hill, each steps heavier than the last and eventually – helpless.

They approached a large tent in the middle of this massive camp. There were two Veterans on the side, each with a mongrel to their command.

“The Caesar has summoned for you!” The Centurion officer pointed at Sol, “He have sent you an invitation not long ago, do you have it or not?”

“Oh,” Sol rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the pendant that Vulpes gave him, “is this it?”

“Indeed, profligate!” The officer said, “That is the mark of Caesar, a mark of prestige. So show some respect! Not everybody is fortunate enough to get a live audience with Caesar himself.”

“Alright then,” Sol said, thinking and trying to find the right words to not insult them, “so… um… do I go in now? Or do I wait for…”

“Yes, the Caesar has demanded your presence, but only your presence,” he then pointed at Sol’s crew, “they will be waiting with the slaves until Caesar decides otherwise.”

“WHAT?!” Sol and his crew shouted in shock, Sol then quickly said, “Look here bub, I don’t know who you think you are but I was invited by your master, so that makes me _and_ my friends here guests. Putting them in with the slaves is quite frankly a huge insult.”

“Do not question Caesar’s will, profligate!” The Centurion said, “Being a slave is not a mark of humiliation, it is a great honor. Not everybody gets to be a slave, not everybody is lucky enough to be protected and cared for by the grace of Caesar’s Legion,” he then raised his right hand just before Sol could open his mouth, “I shall have no more of this! You either do as you’re told or the wrath of the Legion will be upon you. Caesar’s patience with you is wearing thin, so beware.”

Sol looked around the place, trying to analyze the Legionaries. They were well trained, he could tell. In his prime, he could’ve taken out most of the troops in this camp no problem. But the thing was that he was now older than dirt, and his current health conditions forbade him from even jumping forward two feet. He sighed in disappointment:

“Fine… I will oblige.”

“Come, the Caesar awaits.”

Sol then quickly turned around to his crew.

“Don’t worry guys, just do as these… gentlemen tell you to do. I’ll be fine.”

A lot of them wanted to say something to Sol, they wanted to discuss a plan but with the Legion hemming them in it was probably not a very wise choice. So all they could do was nod. Sol could still see Boone’s fiery anger in his eyes, his muscle tightening.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The Centurion led him inside the tent. There was an odd moment of silence as they walked through. Nobody said anything, but Sol could still hear the heavy heartbeat and the growling breath around him.

The old ranger saw a familiar sight when he entered the throne area. Even though he was overwhelmed by the amount of guards surrounding him he could still see that little devilish smirk shining from that sly fox Vulpes through the thick crowd. It was a look that seemed as if he'd just met an old friend, albeit a lot more sinister.

There was a particularly intimidating looking man standing to Caesar’s left. He was well-built enough but he seemed lean at the same time, Sol suspected it to be the work of old age judging by his beard and facial expression. He seemed like the man who had been walking into wars and bloodshed since he was a child. He was strong, his aura demanded respect and power.

But then when Sol turned his head 90 degrees to the right, he was shocked… and amused at the same time – Benny.

The little rapscallion was captured by the Legion, all tied up and with all his clothes stripped down. The boy was wearing nothing but a tattered piece of rag over his body. There were wounds spreading all over his body with small slashes and marks covering his forearm, he also had a black eye, something which Sol noticed when the little rapscallion looked up to see the old ranger. Sol could tell right away that Benny understood the irony in this situation, Sol gave him a slight smirk.

And then… behold! The sight of the mighty Caesar himself…

Sol honestly didn’t know what to expect when he heard of this Caesar. He heard the name long ago during his years, it was just that he never bothered to care. But now standing before the mighty conqueror himself was honestly… underwhelming.

Maybe it was just because Sol had this image of a mighty conqueror sitting on a throne high in the sky that challenged the heavens itself. A man so powerful that he could move mountains and vaporize rivers without even lifting a finger. But when he looked down to this man, Caesar. It just… didn’t feel right. He wore a garment with a thick layer of crow feathers and a round golden symbol attached.

He was bald and seemed very old and… sad. It was a queer thing to say, but it was true, his eyes felt weak and weary or perhaps they were eyes that were indifferent. Either way, Caesar was a strange specimen.

“Welcome… Courier… it would seem that we meet again,” Vulpes said, extending his arms as if welcoming a prodigal son, “behold, Courier, the mighty Caesar himself.”

The two men locked eyes with each other. Sol tried to stand up tall and firm, not revealing to the Legion his sickness. But Caesar… he was… strange. He scanned Sol from top to bottom as if suspecting something. He sat there on his throne pondering for a couple more minutes before he leaned over to Vulpes and asked:

“This is the one?”

“Yes, my liege,” he said, “I’d made sure of that, he has the mark. I gave it to him personally.”

“Hmm… doesn’t seem like much.”

“Well?” Sol suddenly said over their conversation, spreading out his arms as if presenting himself, “Here I am… and judging by the amount of guards you have here, I’m guessing um… er… if I’m not mistaken… you’re intending to kill me, aren’t you?”

“What? Oh, no, no, no, no, nothing of the sort. We would never do such a thing to somebody like yourself,” Caesar assured.

“Really? That so?”

But Caesar only responded with a chuckle, he wiped the sweat off of his forehead then said while smiling:

“After all… do you honestly think that I don’t know who you are… what you’ve done?”

“I… I…” Sol looked at him, he feared for the worst, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the one who’s been causing us so much trouble,” Caesar told him in a grim tone, “you’ve been loud… very loud. That whole shenanigans that happened on the Strip, how you entered an ancient tomb that’s not been opened for nearly 200 years like some moron left a key under the doormat for you… that caught my attention…”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Caesar said, “but the truth is that you’ve always got my attention… for a very long time now – you murderer!”

Sol widened his eyes, shock and chills filled his spine.

“That’s right… the one and only Legendary Red Eye in the flesh. ‘Tis a well known fact that my Legionaries are the most fearsome warriors that ever walked the wasteland. And do you have any idea why? Because the weapons that I’ve forged through my Legion are the weapons of blood, bones, sweat… and flesh. The reason why we are so much stronger than any other army – either the NCR or House or anyone else that we have or will cross paths with – is because we have conquered that which belonged to nature. Take the people of the NCR for example, the people of New Vegas. What do you see? I’ll tell you what I see, I see a bunch of fucking degenerates who does nothing with their time and resources other than waste it in consuming useless things; food, chems, sex, booze. They are like pigs, animals, maybe even worse. But my Legion… they are different, they have the ability to see pass mortal desires and needs. They live off the land, by the law of the land, with their dust returning to the land once their time is up. They have evolved… pass the fear of death, pass the needs of mortal objects and desires so that their minds and bodies can dedicate their maximum efforts to serve a greater cause for our society. That’s what empowers my Legion, we conquer… and we have conquered… and yet…”

He looked at Sol with eyes of contempt, then continued:

“Despite all our powers… _you_ of all people bested them… not once, not twice, but multiple times! Our recent encounter was over five years ago if I’m not mistaken. But try as we might, we couldn’t even come close to scratching you. Heck… we never even managed to get anywhere close to you. Like I said… that caught my attention real good. Made me curious, curious to ask… what is this Red Eye? What is this man? Made me wonder about the limitations of man… and the way to break it… like how you did.”

It suddenly occurred to Sol that Caesar might not be aware of his illness. So there might be a small chance that he’ll survive this. The old ranger said:

“So… you know then… that I have the power to wipe out every single one of you people here.”

“No!” Caesar disagreed, “You may be able to kill the men, the soldiers, but you can’t kill the Legion, my Legion. The idea, the will of the people is stronger than you. Surely you must’ve realized that long ago when you mercilessly slaughtered countless of my men. You killed them all, that you did. But they never died off completely, _we_ never died off completely, and here we are stronger than ever. Stronger than the mountains, stronger than nature… and I’m confident that they are stronger than _you_. And you know what the best part about this is? The best part is that your ass now belongs to me now.”

“With all due respect, Kaizar,” Sol said, and strangely without a hint of sarcasm, “I belong to nobody! And furthermore, if I’m going to be completely honest, I don’t really recall having a problem displaying my contempt towards the Legion, never have and never will. The last thing I'd consider doing is to serve someone like you.”

But then shockingly Caesar responded with a laugh:

“A walking paradox I tell you,” the bald old man said pointing at Sol, “you say that you hate the Legion, you don the coats of an NCR ranger and yet… you speak of Caesar with respect. Clearly the NCR flag that you’re carrying is not a mark of loyalty but instead a burden. You’re very strange, you know that?”

“What if I am?” Sol said, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means that at the end of the day,” Caesar said, “we are not enemies. There is no reason for us to bear hatred and grudges against each other.”

“Are you actually suggesting an alliance between me and your tribe of… of barbarians?”

“Heh… ya know, I should you crucify with bold and reckless words like that. But you know what? Your attitude… there’s a strange fire to it – and that intrigues me to no end. Just makes me want to pry you open to see all your secrets.”

“Do whatever the hell you want, I don’t care,” Sol snapped, “but this alliance is simply impossible. I will not be condemned to the status of a lapdog.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstood,” Caesar spoke softly, “I am offering you nothing of the sort… how do I put this? It’s more of a mutual understanding than actual loyalty now that I think about it.”

“That still doesn’t change my hatred for you. What can you possibly offer me that will get me to endorse a tyrannical dictatorship like your Legion? You are a bloody tyrant, what makes you think that I will condone this cruel tyranny, this autocracy? Huh? You tell me!”

“And yet…” Caesar smirked with mischief, as if he had checkmated Sol, “you have no trouble working for a man like House. Last I checked… House is still not above using tactics of an… autocracy.”

Sol stayed silent, trying not to show weakness. He stared at Caesar with vicious eyes, but it only amused the man more. Caesar said:

“I know that you are a very clever man. You hide it well, but I can tell. Deny it all you want but I can see through to your heart. Come now… you know full well that in a desolate world like this wasteland there is no room for setbacks made by… democracies, free will. This isn’t the same world it used to be 200 years ago. It’s dangerous, new problems that cannot be tackled using the same Old World methods. New dangers arising from the waste that need to be taken care of. You try to emulate the politics of the Old World and you’ll end up repeating the same mistakes of the past. You know it deep down inside… don’t you? Come now… there is no reason to deny these claims… after all, isn’t that the exact reason why you are siding with House in the first place?”


	48. Fortification Hill Bunker

**_17th January 2248_ **

_Dear Ace,_

_I found your letter in this mailbox, which I thought was incredibly odd. Nobody’s been crazy enough to even think about going around these parts (normal people at least). But then I read your letter and figured that you were anything but normal._

_The funny thing is that I too have been going through a pretty rough time lately. I too have lost someone important. Someone whom I thought was… different. I looked up to him, he was my hero, my mentor but he’s changed. It all happened so quickly. I could hardly recognize him anymore._

_And since you have so generously offered me your friendship, who am I to say no? We should talk more sometime._

_They used to call me the Golden Bull, but you can call me Gold._

_Your new friend,_

_Gold_

_P.S. I actually found the Deathclaws’ nest, it’s over the west side of these cliffs. There’s a cave just beneath a pile of rubble and three large boulders, can’t miss it._

 

**_Present Days…_ **

“ _I want Mr. House out of the picture, a quick one-two punch – with you doing the punching… down the hill, at the west edge of camp, is an old building. It was here when the Fort was taken in 2277… inside the building is a hatch that carries the sigil of the Lucky 38… what’s inside that hatch? A gigantic robot to stomp us all to death, a bunch of weapon stashes, who cares? It’s House’s, so I want them gone. Take the Chip here, it’ll open the hatch…”_

“So this is the building huh?” Sol said, “Could you tell me what exactly is inside this place? Kaizar never really gave me any specifics.”

“Best not to ask questions, profligate,” Vulpes whispered in a sinister voice, “it’s unwise to anger Caesar.”

It was a large building with grey concrete-like walls. It strangely juxtaposed with the primitive feel that the Fort gave off. They went inside, and the interior shined with a strangely bright darkness over the computer console on the right side of the room and the lockers on the left. There was already a couple of Praetorian guards inside by the time Vulpes brought Sol inside.

“So this is it, huh?” Sol said, looking around, “Doesn’t look like it belongs to House.”

“It’s what beneath that’s important,” Vulpes told him then produced to him the Platinum Chip.

After all this time, through the scorching desert and the burning sand. Through the monstrous scorpions and demons born from mutation – it finally came back into his palm. Pure platinum… it was beautiful. He sure did think that it was made by some crazy rich folk with too much money on their hands when he first laid hands on this treasure. But now he could feel it rumbling in his sweaty palms… the fate of the entire Mojave.

“Come now, Courier…” Vulpes said in a soft low voice, “insert the Chip… and open the hatch now… just as Caesar has commanded.”

“Um, yeah… about that…”

Vulpes raised an eyebrow, Sol told him:

“I’m going to need my gun back, who knows what crazy things I’m going to find down there. So why don’t you just go ahead and tell one of your lapdogs here to go fetch me my revolver? It’s the long black one loaded with .45-70 Gov’t bullets, you can’t miss it.”

But Vulpes maintained his sinister smile:

“Do you think that I am a fool? Do you think that I am foolish enough to hand over a gun and bullets to a monster like you? For your information, I didn’t survive this long by recklessly putting myself in danger. So you see, my answer is _no._ You will go down there without your weapons.”

“Well, sending an unarmed man down there is rather cruel of you isn’t it? Even by your standards… I mean what would Kaizar think when he finds out that you of all people have caused the death of one of the most valuable asset in the entire Mojave wasteland? That wouldn’t bode well with the Almighty Kaizar I assume.”

Vulpes chucked:

“I will… admit… that you do make a compelling argument… however, I still stand by what I said. A man like you with a gun is like a loaded howitzer,” he then snapped his finger towards one of the guards and signaled to the locker behind him. He dug through the pile and pulled out a strange object.

“That being said… I’m a reasonable man,” Vulpes said, “I’ve seen many rangers adept in rifles and revolvers… but that has also proven to be their downfall. Many of them over-rely on their rifles, makes them weak when faced with a warrior who isn’t afraid to attack with his fists. Here...”

The fox threw towards him a heavy metallic glove with two large shotgun barrels attached on top – a ballistic fist.

Vulpes laughed on:

“NCR troopers are practically useless when wielding a melee weapon so this should suffice. It has four shotgun rounds inside, so I suggest that you not waste it all in one go. Because after all… who knows what crazy things you’re going to find down there… ha-ha…”

 

 

 

 

“Well… you’re late! What? Couldn’t come to an agreement with Caesar on how you were going to stab me in the back? May I suggest my head on a stake, or perhaps I should be burned on a cross nailed on the Colorado River?”

“I didn’t sell out to Caesar if that’s what you’re implying,” Sol said.

“For your sake, I would hope not. Because it really made me want to renegotiate our little agreement we made back at the Lucky 38. I was so tempted to send a couple of Securitrons over to the Fort just to track you down and dispose of you. I was frightfully concerned of your… prolonged absence in these past few weeks.”

“Sorry… I just had a few… minor setbacks. But I didn’t betray you, that’s the one thing that I’m absolutely certain of,” Sol told Mr. House on the computer console.

“Well I do hope that all of these antics would be the last of the… setbacks, for your sake. I cannot afford to lose any more time. Do you understand?” Said House in a stern voice.

“Fine…” Sol said, “but hey, at the very least, I _did_ infiltrate Kaizar’s Legion. He’s decided to put his trust in me… for now.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. House, “this is where I wanted you to end up, after all. I knew I could rely on Caesar to give you back the Platinum Chip.”

“So, this is it huh? This is where you keep your Securitrons?”

“Precisely.”

“Kaizar wants me to destroy the bunker, though.”

“And was that supposed to be a shocking revelation? Of course Caesar wants to destroy it – he’s afraid of what the bunker might hold, what it’s capable of and rightly so. But you’re not going to do that. You’re going to do the smart thing here.”

“And was _that_  supposed to be a shocking revelation?” Sol laughed sarcastically, “Oh, you underestimate me Mr. House.”

“… Hmm… I suppose…” it managed to produce out of him a small chuckle, which to Sol was more valuable than all the caps and gold in the world.

“Alright, tell me what to do now,” Sol said.

“The Platinum Chip is a data storage device,” Mr. House explained, “I need you to manually upload the data from the Chip to the facility's primary computer. There's a terminal at the other end of this facility. There's a complication. While I can broadcast to this screen, I can't control any of the facility's systems. That means I can't deactivate any of its security bots... most of which appear to be active, according to the status board I'm looking at.”

“Well, ain’t that just grand?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Well… did you know that they took away all of my weapons? They gave me this crappy shotgun gauntlet with only four shots. _Four fucking shots!”_

“Well, the way I see it is that… you’re a resourceful man,” House said, “I’m sure you will be able to figure something out eventually.”

But there was something… something else. Something that he had not felt since a very long time. A feeling that he thought he had lost a long time ago.

“Hmm… is there something wrong?” Mr. House asked, “You looked as if… hmm… I struggle to find the right word for this but I suppose the best way I can describe you right now is simply that you look as if you’re afraid.”

“What? You’re serious?” Sol scoffed at his comment, “Me? Scared? That’s like saying water is not wet, it’s absurd! Lest you forget, we’ve established long ago that I am one of the most powerful men in the entire United States of America and here you talk of… fear as if I’m nothing more than a child.”

“Well… I just hope for your sake… that this fear… does not actually exist. Best of luck,” at that point Mr. House logged off from the computer. Leaving Sol with an empty blank screen and a dark reflection of himself, a weak reflection of his old age.

He shook himself out of the moment and just decided to proceed down the stairs. These were just… security robots. They weren’t anything too dangerous.

But…

At the end of the day… both Mr. House and Vulpes… as much as he hated to admit it… they were right. He _was indeed_ afraid… he never tried close quarter combat anymore, at least not as much as he used to. He was too rusty. And the only reason was that because it reminded him too much of… _him…_

His own arrogance, his own lies and deceits were the cause of all this. He wanted to push them all away, push all the people around him away, push his own emotions away so that his heart could be left alone as an empty shell. That was why he always used a gun, to try to push people away. But now that he didn’t have any of that… he felt… vulnerable. Old fears and lies were starting to resurface.

He was trying desperately not to think about it too much.

But then one of the Protectrons came popping out from behind the metal door and unleashed onto him a wave of laser shots to which he immediately jumped and lunged himself to the side for cover. He held the ballistic fist tight, knowing he only had four shots. He took a deep breath and threw himself towards the mad robot with a huge punch that fired a devastating blast onto its dome.

It didn’t destroy it entirely, the robot only staggered a little bit. But Sol was quick, he snuck beneath into its blind spots and used his right leg to sweep and throw it onto the floor, cracking the robot in half – the lights finally died down.

“Still rusty,” he told himself. His heart pounding like war drums. He still felt uncomfortable fighting up close. Luckily for him it was just a single bot. Dealing against someone smart or crazy like say… Elijah with nothing but his bare fists and he could’ve easily been killed. Honestly… the only thing that was keeping him alive was probably an insane amount of luck, and even then it was never a certainty.

He still had a job to do, though… this was just the beginning. The only thing he could do at the moment was to tighten his grasp on the Platinum Chip and simply move forward.


	49. Highway to the Danger Zone

The Fox was sniffing at the air; the scent was faint… metal… gunpowder.

“Ah… so he returns,” Vulpes whispered under his breath.

Sol began dragging his feet up the set of metal stairs. Eyes were blurry, arms went numb. He started wondering how he even managed to stand up straight. Well… to be honest, how he managed to stay in one piece for the last few decades or so was anyone’s guess. He threw the hefty metal glove up the stairs, landing it in front of the Fox Vulpes.

“All… empty,” he said as he sat down by the steps, resting his tired knees.

“I see,” Vulpes picked up the gauntlet, scanning it then shifted his focus onto the ranger, “you performed even better than I’d expected.”

“Yes, yes, what a talent scout you are. Maybe I should beat the pulp out of ya to give you a taste of what it was like down that shit-hole.”

“Such harsh words are not needed, Courier,” said the Fox, grinning sinisterly, “remember, I am on your side in this.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“That being said, I'm gonna need you to tell me what you did down there.”

“What? Like… a report?”

“Why not?”

“What do you take me for, one of your low ranking lackeys?” Said Sol.

“You can tell a lot about what a person’s thinking by their expression,” explained Vulpes, “because let’s face it, nobody in this camp other than you knows what you’re going to say when you go up there and tell Caesar about what you did.”

“Are you insinuating that I am going to lie to Kaizar about what I did down there?”

“Not insinuating, more like outright saying it,” said Vulpes with a vicious smile.

“What exactly do you think I’m going to say to Kaizar?”

“Oh, who knows, that you dug a tunnel and went on a holiday down there? Honestly that has as much chance of being true as anything since… ya know, you’re refusing to tell me anything.”

“What – will – Kaizar think when he hears this, I wonder,” Sol said, “one of Kaizar’s most trusted allies, the best of the Frumentarii, the most cunning man of the Legion… who at the same time doubts in Kaizar’s trust in me. Wouldn’t that be the same as doubting in Kaizar and the Legion itself? Treason might be the word he’d describe you if I have to guess.”

“You have a sharp tongue for a profligate,” said Vulpes, “but what I’m seeing here is not logic or reason. What I’m seeing is bargaining. You… you’re afraid to tell me what happened down there… aren’t you?”

“Heh, you’d like that wouldn’t ya?”

“Well, if you  _really_  have done what Caesar asked you to do then you wouldn’t mind me going down there and check on the results would you?”

“No!”

“No?”

“You’re an idiot aren’t you? Ha… ironic,” Sol smirked confidently, “I thought foxes were supposed to be cunning, smart.”

“And your point is?”

“Kaizar asked me to go down there and destroy House’s robots. And if you know anything about Mr. House, you’ll know that he is clever, crafty. A combination that makes a man very dangerous.”

“Get to the point,” snapped Vulpes.

“The point is that it wasn’t easy destroying House’s stuff down there. What? D’you think I went down there to find a giant on-off switch that'd let me deactivate House’s bots just like that? Did you honestly think it was that easy? So if you must know, I had to detonate the nuclear reactor down there. I’m sure you felt the tremor, too.”

Vulpes fell silent, looking at the old ranger.

“So if you wanna go down there and check to see if the robots are really dead then knock yourself out,” said Sol, “but I doubt you can go further than five steps before the skin from your face melts off from the radiation.”

But then when Sol looked up at Vulpes he saw the strangest thing. Confused, he shook his head at the chuckling Fox.

“What? What’s so funny?"

“Oh… oh, nothing. It’s just… you’re sitting in the middle of a Legion camp,  _a Legion camp!_  And you’re still acting like a pretentious arrogant little profligate. It’s funny really, you must have a death wish of some sort.”

“Well luckily for me Kaizar guaranteed my safety,” Sol smirked, “I’m an asset.”

“If that’s the case then let’s put this asset to good use, shall we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Caesar’s got another job for you. This one’s a little bit more… exotic.”

“Great, I’m becoming more and more like a lapdog. Fantastic.”

“We’re going to have to bring along your little friend the doctor. He could prove to be useful.”

“You mean Arcade? But… I don’t get it. Don’t Legion soldiers favor natural medicine over synthetic chems and medications?” Sol asked, shaking his head.

“Oh no, the doctor isn’t for me, it’s for you,” a malicious grin appeared on his face.

“What are you playing at, Fox?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just… where we’re going, I’m worried that you might not make it out in one piece.”

“You underestimate me there, Vulpes,” Sol smiled confidently, “whatever you throw at me, I’ll toss right back!”

“We shall see then,” the Fox grinned.

It sent chills down his spine, which was a shock to Sol because not many people were capable of doing something like that to him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact Vulpes was just a footstep away from finding out that he was lying to the Legion about what he really did down the bunker. If there was a god, Sol’d be thanking him tonight for watching over him.

 

 

 

 

“Um… when I said I can take whatever you throw at me… this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

The three of them, Solmund, Vulpes and Arcade were standing on top of a sandy hill looking afar into the ruins of the buildings and rubble of the past. The broken structures spanned for miles, even up to the horizon in the distance. Sol checked the map on his Pip-Boy, they were somewhere northeast of New Vegas. He could still see the light from the Lucky 38 tower shining from this spot.

“The Boomers you say?” Arcade asked Vulpes, with a slight hint of bitterness in his tone. Clearly not content with having to travel alongside a Legion spy.

“Indeed,” the Fox replied, “a xenophobic tribe who were fortunate enough to have discovered a whole munitions stockpile buried beneath an air force base giving them immense firepower. Fortunate for them, not so much for us.”

“Why is that?” Arcade asked.

“Because the Boomers are crazy, that’s why,” Sol answered while spitting on the side, rubbing his hands together, “a bunch paranoid lunatics secluding themselves inside this remote piece of land, lobbing their artillery at whatever they see coming at them. It’s a wonder how they’ve yet to turn on each other with that kind of paranoia.”

“The Caesar wants their alliance with the Legion,” Vulpes explained, “and he expects results sooner than later. It’s troublesome really, they have an extraordinary vision, capable of firing artillery at an extremely far distance. Many of my men have died because of it. I suspect that they must have spotters patrolling on their towers, the perimeter is extremely well guarded. Nobody goes in or out of that place except them.”

“So we go in there and what? Try to convince them to join your Legion?” Arcade asked.

“That’s the idea,” said Vulpes.

“With a hostile tribe like that? What happens if they don’t oblige?”

“If that is the case then they have no use for Caesar. He’d then prefer to have them out of the picture,” Vulpes said, with a smile slowly creeping on his face.

“But before any of that,” Sol said, rubbing his chest, trying not to make his pain obvious to Vulpes, “we gotta reach that settlement without being blown to smithereens.”

“Well that George fella we met a while back certainly seems to know much of these Boomers,” Arcade pointed back to the road, “he even said something about knowing a way to cross this field without being blown up.”

“Yeah, and the guy was selling his ‘ _secrets’_  of crossing the place while also making bets on whether we’ll make it back or not,” Sol sneered at the thought, “I don’t know about you but that’s basically ‘how to con people’ 101. It’s already dangerous enough without that buffoon trying to give us a one way ticket to hell.”

“So are you saying that you’re not going to cross that field then?” Vulpes asked, “What will Caesar make of this then?”

“Of course not,” Sol snapped, “are you dense? I’m just saying that it’s dangerous, that’s all. But ya know what? That don’t bother me one bit. Ya wanna know why, Vulpes Inculta? It’s because I am sick of you, you sly Fox. Yeah, that’s right, I said it! You’ve been getting on my nerves ever since we first met back at that town Nipton down South. When I first saw your Legion banner and you wearing that stupid dog hat of yours I thought I was intimidated, scared. But now I see that you lot are nothing but a bunch of pathetic scumbags playing dress up. And I pity you for it.”

“Oh?” The Fox had this look on his face, seemingly more amused than offended.

“Yeah, that’s right, I ain’t afraid of ya. Like I said before, whatever you throw at me, I’ll toss it right back. In fact…” Sol leapt down the road behind them, waving, “… HEY GEORGE! HEY!”

“What on earth are you doing?” Arcade asked, “Are you mad?”

“Not at all my dear friend, not at all… GEORGE!” Sol bellowed down the road, “I’M GONNA CROSS THAT FIELD AND TAKE THAT BET YOU HEAR ME! OH YEAH, YOU HEARD ME RIGHT! IF I DON’T COME BACK ALIVE THEN YOU’RE WELCOME TO LOOT ME. BUT IF I DO, THEN YOU OWE ME THOSE CAPS YOU PROMISED!”

And from afar the three of them could clearly see George nodding his head and raising a thumbs-up into the air. Arcade immediately widened his eyes, thinking that there was no way that Sol was being serious about this. Unfortunately for Arcade proving people wrong was Sol’s bread and butter.

“You just wait and see,” Sol pointed his finger at Vulpes’s face, “I’m going to cross into No Man’s Land over there whether you like it or not. If I die, then you can go tell Kaizar to go screw himself. Something that I’m sure you don’t want him to hear. I’d imagine that he’d also not want to hear that you of all people let one of the most valuable assets in the wasteland – being me – die because you were too incompetent to stop me from charging mindlessly into this minefield. So in case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight!”

“SOL, WAIT!” Arcade screamed after him.

“CAN’T STOP ME NOW! I feel so  _alive_ , I AM INVINCIBLE!”


	50. The Fox and the Hound

“CRAZY!” Arcade yelled, “Crazy I tell you! Didn’t you hear a single thing I told you back at the bunker?”

“Heh, I’m sorry Arcade. But you got to admit, though, that was pretty fun,” chuckled Sol.

“ _Are you crazy?”_  Vulpes hissed at the old man, evidently grumpy but still desperately trying to keep calm, “You could’ve gotten me killed out there you lunatic!”

“Heh, wouldn’t that be a shame,” Sol cackled.

 “I hate to say it Sol,” Arcade muttered, “but I’m going to have to agree with Inculta here – but only begrudgingly mind you.”

“Hush now,” Vulpes snapped, “here they come.”

A pair of scrawny looking men wielding massive rocket launchers approached the three of them. The pair wore flight jackets made of black leather, both with various war medals attached. It was genuinely amazing how these small men were just dragging around these massive weapons as if they were just small sacks of potatoes.

“Listen here you lot,” one of them said, “how on god’s earth did you survive that bombardment?”

“Oh it’s all very elementary my friend,” Sol smirked, “all we did was run, hide, and run. It’s all in the timing see.”

“But I had you zeroed in the whole time! Nobody’s that fast! Are you even human? Some kind of mutant?”

“Depends on who’s askin’.”

“Listen here pal, you better stop giving us crap and start answering the damn question,” the second man stepped up from behind.

“Quiet down Shawn,” said the first one, “Raquel’s coming.”

A woman then approached from afar with three other big men accompanying her. They all held big bombastic launchers, practically armed to the teeth. The woman, who Sol guessed was Raquel, wore heavy body armor, hefty and black like the night. She had this frowning expression on her face, clearly not joyous in any way, almost as if she was insulted.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” She cried, “Ken, Shawn, you two mind telling me why the hell are these three savages standing at our gate unscathed?”

“Miss Raquel…”

“Ya know what? Forget it, I’ll deal with them myself you worthless worms,” the girl approached the gate where Sol could finally see her face clearly, “so… are you going to tell me how you crossed that field or what?”

“Heh,” the old ranger sneered, “who, pray tell, are you little girl?”

“My name don’t matter to you savages. The only thing that matters is that you’re in Boomers territories. So you better start talking soon otherwise…”

“Miss Raquel!” A voice bellowed in the distance.

“What is it now?”

Another man in Boomer uniform rushed from across the field. He seemed somewhat worried judging by the expression on his face. The man leaned close to Raquel, whispering something to her.

“Uh huh… uh huh… what? No kidding? … Hmm… no… no… I suppose…”

“Psst… Arcade,” Sol nudged the doctor, “what do you suppose they’re talking about?”

“What the… why the hell are you asking me for, you crazy lunatic?”

“Shh,” Vulpes snapped, “quiet down you two.”

Raquel approached them once more, emerging into the light.

“Right, listen up you lot. So it turns out that Mother Pearl, our Eldest, wishes to speak to you.”

“What? But why?” Arcade asked.

“And who on earth is Mother Pearl?”

“Shut your yap yer old geezer,” snapped Raquel, “I… don’t know why alright? But if the Elder wants to speak with you then it must be important. No idea why I can’t just blow you savages to pieces here and now, but orders are orders. So move along!”

 

 

 

 

“Welcome, children! Took your sweet time getting here didn’t you? I’ve been waiting for a good five years for someone to come along and visit. Come close and let me get a better look at you all.”

“Alright, but could you lay off the whole ‘ _children’_ thing?” Sol said, “I’m probably older than you are… no offense or anything.”

“Ha ha, I doubt that, but… alright, I will oblige.”

So apparently this old lady was Mother Pearl. Raquel mentioned that she had lived at this place called Nellis since the beginning. She also said that Mother Pearl had the wisdom of her age, a number which probably rounded up to around a bazillion. Raquel sure wasn’t kidding. That woman was the definition of ancient.

The old woman’s squinting eyes began scanning up and down the physique of the old ranger and the doctor. But when her gaze shifted to the Fox, something seemed to have… changed.

“So… wait a minute, were you expecting us or something?” Sol asked.

“Like… some sort of prophecy?” Arcade eagerly leaned in.

“Prophecy? HA!” Surprisingly she started cackling, “Do we look like a bunch of religious idiots to you? Ha! But in all seriousness, I got to tell ya, those howitzers out there aren't just for entertainment you see. Explosive ordnance is what keeps the savages at a distance. Except you! There's something special about you, and it was the howitzers that gave you a chance to show it!”

“Is that so? Heh, see that Arcade?” Sol nudged the young doctor, “And you called me crazy of all things.”

“Oh no, he’s right about that,” Mother Pearl said, “you  _are_ crazy!”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh yes, yes. I heard all about it from my youngers. How you were charging across that field like some sort of crazy Brahmin that lost its herd, crazy high on jet, too. Ha-ha, at least that’s what Shawn told me anyway.”

“So I take it that you’re the tribe they call the Boomers,” Arcade said.

“Indeed,” the old lady nodded, “oh, but where are my manners? We haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet.”

“Don’t have to,” Sol said, “we already know who you are. You’re the Boomers. And Raquel over there told us that you’re Mother Pearl. Anyway, my name is Solmund, but you can call me Sol. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Now isn’t that a strange name if I’ve ever heard one.”

“The doctor calls himself Arcade, he’s kind of a control freak so don’t mind him. And this fella here is Vulpes. He’s um… well he’s a bit of an oddball.”

“I can see that,” said Mother Pearl, “but let’s get back on track. I have to ask… how  _did_  you cross that field? Did you have help from some other outsiders?”

“Nah, like I told your boys, it’s all about the timing.”

“Well,” Mother Pearl started scratching her chin, “to be perfectly frank it doesn’t really matter how you crossed the field. What’s really important here is that  _you are here now._  You have to keep in mind that you're our first contact with the outside world since I was barely a woman. Seclusion has kept us safe. But the world around us is changing. Neon lights in the distance, patrolling robots, soldiers... My youngers think our guns can keep out the world, but I think we need to let it in, just a little, or become its victim.”

“Mother, are you seriously thinking about letting these outsiders stay?” Raquel squealed, “ _They are savages_! We don’t even know why they came here in the first place.”

Crap, she’s right, Sol thought to himself. He was charging into this place head first without actually thinking about how they were going to pull this off. The Boomers were powerful, perhaps even as powerful as either the NCR or the Legion. There was no way that this was going to be a cake walk. A darn xenophobic tribe no less. What the fuck was I thinking? Sol beat himself over his head. The old ranger started biting his lips, trying to come up with something in his exhausted foggy mind… something…

“We came looking for shelter.”

That line shot Sol right in his nerves, making him spin his head around to the sight of the Fox faintly smirking at the old man. Vulpes’s glare told Sol a message:  _I just saved your life._

“Please,” Vulpes continued, “people of the outside world have been giving your tribe a bad name. Plenty of rumors going about on how you people seclude yourselves in this place like some backward primitive tribal society –  _savages_  so to speak. I’d hate it if any of it turns out to be true.”

“Heh, smooth…” Raquel muttered under her breath.

“Yes, YES,” Arcade sprang from his feet, “all we want is a place to stay… a place safe from the horrors wasteland…”

“I find that a bit hard to believe,” Raquel said, “most people who come here are scavengers. They’re thieves, scoundrels who just want to make some quick caps. How are you people any different?”

“That’s fine,” Vulpes said, “Just come up with your own narrative. I don’t care. But you want to know who does? The outsiders. You kill us today and the outside world is just going to keep thinking that you’re nothing but a bunch of backward savages. It’ll just make them want to get rid of you as soon as possible. You may be safe now, but what about ten, twenty, fifty years down the line? Are you going to make it that far? I doubt that your Mother Pearl thinks so.”

It was that moment when Sol finally realized what he was up against. What he saw in Vulpes’ expression was the darkest grin he had ever seen in his entire life.


End file.
